The Female of the Species
by servalan-ch
Summary: Sequel to Cho's Chic. What happened in the castle dungeons? What kind of woman is Narcissa Malfoy? Lucius' wife gets two unexpected visitors... COMPLETE.
1. Introduction & Chapter 1

**The Female of the Species**

**Introduction & Disclaimer**

This story is a sequel to **Cho's Chic**, and you are strongly recommended to read that first in order to understand what is happening. I could summarise the plot of Cho's Chic here so you don't have to, but then that would spoil it if you haven't read it yet...

I was not given an option of indicating three named characters in a fic, which is slightly misleading as far as this story is concerned. It continues the tale of Cho Chang and Lucius Malfoy, but Narcissa Malfoy also has a very large role. Narcissa is very much a background character in the Harry Potter books, so I have felt free to develop her in my own way.

All Harry Potter characters are the property of JK Rowling, with influences from the Warner Brothers films. Lucius Malfoy is based primarily on Jason Isaacs' delicious interpretation of the character, and it is entirely Mr Isaacs' fault that this story was written.

**Chapter 1**

Narcissa Malfoy was at home, relaxing in the morning room at Malfoy Manor with a cup of her favourite raspberry tisane at her elbow, perusing a copy of _Witch Weekly_. The magazine was her secret vice - in public she pretended that it was far beneath her intelligence, but at home, she loved to read the gossip and latest fashions, and best of all, the problem page, where she could shake her head condescendingly over the ridiculous situations some people got themselves into. Honestly, what did it matter if one's lover was married, or even if one was married oneself? Narcissa had never let such considerations stop her from doing exactly what she wanted.

She raised her elegant blonde head and listened as she heard what sounded like a commotion from the entrance hall. This was followed by heavy footsteps coming towards the morning room. The door opened, and a house elf came in, followed by two Chinese wizards, one of whom was very large and solid looking. The house elf, looking even more cowed than usual, said, "I'm sorry, Mistress, these wizards asked to see the Master. When I told them he was not at home, they wanted to see you. I tried to stop them until I asked you, but they came in anyway."

Narcissa nodded her dismissal to the house elf, who was obviously no match for the more muscular visitor, and looked haughtily at the men without rising from her seat. She raised her eyebrows, and said icily, "I expect you have an explanation as to why you found it necessary to break the usual rules of hospitality, where it is expected that uninvited guests wait until they are asked inside?"

The slimmer of the two men said, "Good morning, Mrs Malfoy," and presented Narcissa with an ornate visiting card. In flowing green script on pale green vellum, it pronounced that the bearer was Mark Chang from Chang Jade Holdings. Narcissa frowned. "Good morning, Mr Chang," she said, "I'm sorry, this does not explain your presence or your lack of manners."

Mark Chang exchanged a meaningful glance with his companion. "It appears that your husband does not keep you fully informed about his business affairs, Mrs Malfoy," he said smoothly. "Would I be right in assuming that you are unaware that Lucius Malfoy has recently purchased a considerable quantity of jade? I see that I am. I take it that he has also not told you that he bought the jade under very strict credit terms. Now, I know that families such as the Malfoys," and here he gave a slight sneer, "are accustomed to extended credit, and not paying their bills. However, Chang Jade Holdings does not operate in this fashion. We expect our bills to be paid on time. Mr Malfoy is two weeks late with his latest instalment. We have given him these two weeks' grace, but now we wish to be paid. As Mr Malfoy has broken the terms of his agreement, all further credit is now withdrawn, and the whole amount is now due. If you settle it here and now, no further interest will be added. If not, regrettably we will be forced to add a fine for late payment, plus extra interest. If the amount remains unpaid after another two weeks, my colleague Mr Tan will pay Mr Malfoy another personal visit."

Mark Chang looked significantly at the solid and burly Tan, who drew himself up to his full height, and cracked his knuckles together ostentatiously, all the while smiling in a menacing manner. The threat was unspoken, but nonetheless real enough. Narcissa did not doubt that it would be carried out, and she knew that Tan would have a full store of Chinese magic to call on as well as his fists. Nobody ever crossed a Chinese wizard more than once. Narcissa swallowed, her languid manner gone, her mind racing, but she had had years of perfecting an expressionless face, and did not permit the visitors to see how astonished and angry she was. One step at a time, she told herself.

"Firstly of course, I shall require details of how much my husband owes, and some kind of proof that the amount is correct," she told Chang calmly. In reply, Chang produced a long parchment, which he handed over to her. Narcissa made herself maintain her blank face as she carefully perused the account, and finally looked at the amount Lucius owed, even though her head began to swim when she saw the total amount. Her mind raced. There was no time now to wonder what Lucius wanted with so much jade, she had to work out how she was going to pay Chang. She would not allow the Malfoys and the Blacks to be disgraced.

Narcissa smiled at Mark Chang, forcing some warmth into her expression. "Please sit down, Mr Chang, Mr Tan. Would you like some tea? I'm sure we can come to some arrangement that will suit us both."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Narcissa apparated in the spacious entrance hall of Glen Moy Castle. As soon as she arrived, a house elf also magically appeared, awaiting her instructions. Narcissa turned to him, and demanded, "Where is your Master?"

The house elf looked worried, and although his mouth opened and shut, no sound came out. Narcissa nodded at him: "I see. You've been sworn to secrecy?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Tell me the exact words the Master used to tell you to keep it secret."

"He said, 'You will not tell or show anyone where I am if they ask, whoever they are. If you do, you know what to expect.' "

Narcissa nodded again. "I see. Then you may just nod or shake your head in answer to my questions. Firstly, do you know where he is?" The house elf nodded. "Is he in the castle?" Another nod. Narcissa then worked her way through the rooms where Lucius was most likely to be found, and each time the elf shook his head. She watched him carefully as she began on the less likely places, hoping that his demeanour may give her a clue if she was getting warm with her guesses. Finally, she said the word "dungeon". The house elf nodded, but instead of looking relieved that his mistress had finally guessed correctly, he looked very afraid indeed.

"What's wrong?" demanded Narcissa, but the response was merely a pair of enormous bulbous frightened eyes. Narcissa thought carefully about how to phrase her questions, guessing that the silence involved more instructions to maintain Lucius' secrecy. "Is your Master in danger?" The elf nodded eagerly, still terrified. "Do you know what the danger is?" A nod. "Is it in the dungeons?" More nodding. "Have you seen the danger?" The house elf's eyes bulged in fear, and tears began to flow from them as he nodded again. "Will I be in danger too if I go there?" The nodding continued, and the elf said, "Please, Mistress, do not go there. It is terrible, terrible."

A sudden thought occurred to Narcissa. Lucius had been away from Malfoy Manor for far longer than usual. She had assumed he was busy with his latest mistress, the Chinese witch who was so clever with her needle and tape measure. Narcissa had bought two outfits from her, and had grudgingly admired the girl's skill. Lucius always had impeccable taste in all things, and that included his women. But perhaps, instead of sleeping in her bed, he had been here at the castle all the time? Had he been exposed to danger all this time too? She turned once more to the trembling elf.

"How long has your Master been in the dungeons?" she demanded. The cowering servant hesitated, then, realising that by answering this question he was not disobeying Malfoy, he replied in a whisper, "Ten days."

"**What?**" demanded Narcissa. "Why has none of you been to see if he is safe?" But as she glared at the house elf, she could see that he was so terrified of whatever was hiding in the dungeons, that he would never have gone there unless directly ordered to do so. It was safe to assume that the same was true for all the Glen Moy Castle elves. She would have to investigate herself.

Deciding that a frightened house elf would be a nigh on useless companion, Narcissa went to the head of the dungeon stairs. She peered down, and listened carefully, but saw and heard nothing out of the ordinary. She took one of the flaming torches from its sconce, and holding it aloft, with her wand also illuminating the stairs as she held it ready before her, she made her way slowly downwards, eyes and ears alert for any sign of danger. She reached the bottom of the stairs, and still everything seemed normal. Narcissa edged forwards, every sense alert for any indication of whatever the house elves feared so much. The air was much cooler here, and she shivered involuntarily.

Then, at the edge of her illuminated field of vision, Narcissa suddenly caught sight of something on the ground. Cautiously, she stepped forward, holding the torch higher, and gripping her wand for reassurance. Then she gasped, as the shape resolved itself into a familiar form, and the yellow light reflected back from a tousled mane of gold hair: it was Lucius, lying awkwardly on the floor, apparently unconscious. Maintaining her caution, Narcissa walked to Lucius, and knelt beside him. Her heart gave a lurch as she saw his face: it was twisted in agony.

Looking down on that familiar face with its unfamiliar expression of profound suffering, she felt an almost overwhelming surge of emotion: relief, anger, fear, a grim satisfaction - these almost paralysed her for a few moments, until the logical part of her mind began to take over again. Lucius must be removed upstairs as quickly as possible: he was likely suffering from dehydration if he had been here in the dungeon for as long as the house elf had said, and he was cold to the touch. Also, the expression he bore awoke dreadful memories in Narcissa's mind of the times she had seen the Crucio curse inflicted on some poor unfortunate victim. Further investigation of the dungeons must take second place to caring for Lucius.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Female of the Species**

**Chapter 2**

Lucius was lying in his four-poster bed. Narcissa sat beside him, scanning his face anxiously for signs of returning consciousness. He was now warm, wrapped in brushed cotton sheets, lambswool blankets and an eiderdown, with a fire crackling in the grate. Narcissa herself had chafed his hands and feet to restore the circulation, while a house elf wet his parched mouth, and fed him drops of water through his cracked lips with a sponge, slowly so as not to choke him. Natural colour had finally returned to his grey skin. Narcissa thanked the Fates that she had once trained as a mediwitch. She would have been loath to invite another witch or wizard to examine Lucius: knowing her husband as she did, she could not be sure that whatever was in the dungeons had not been placed there by him, and it may well be a creature whose possession was banned by wizarding law. Narcissa had determined that Lucius' unconsciousness was at least partly due to a blow on the side of his head, no doubt caused when he hit the stone floor. There was dried blood matting Lucius' hair, but when she had examined him and cleaned the wound, she found he had not broken any bones.

As she stared at Lucius, Narcissa's mind began to wander. She thought over her life with this wizard: he was enigmatic, cruel, self-centred and arrogant; he could be exceedingly generous on occasion; above all he was beautiful, even in his present condition.

Lucius had been Narcissa's first love in every sense of the word, taking her virginity on the slopes of Ben Foy when she was fourteen and he sixteen. His youthful beauty had spoiled her for any other boy, and when he had asked her to marry him she had accepted, entranced, hardly daring to believe that he would be hers forever. In the beginning, it had been bliss, and they had been inseparable, making love often and everywhere, including in the open air and in the darkest of the castle dungeons. It was not long before their frequent coupling came to its logical conclusion, and Narcissa found herself pregnant.

It was not an easy pregnancy: at first she suffered terribly with morning sickness, then later water retention made her expand like a barrel. Unfortunately, this experience was one thing that magic could not cure, for fear of damage to the baby. Lucius was solicitous for her comfort, but his ever watchful grey eyes began to stray, as there was no way that poor, suffering Narcissa could accommodate his still rampant carnal desires. Lucius was delighted when presented with his firstborn, and doubly so that it was a son, but although he lavished money on both Narcissa and Draco, and played for hours with his baby son, Narcissa knew that he now had more than one woman at his beck and call even after normal marital relations had resumed. Some were to be his mistresses for many years, in addition to the many one night stands and numerous affairs.

Narcissa dreaded what would happen when Lucius began to feel again, for she was sure that his agonies were not yet over. If he had indeed been attacked with a Crucio curse, as she had suspected when she found him, this was designed not only to cause immediate pain. The effects lasted for many weeks after the initial torture had worn off: stabbing pains would recur at unpredictable intervals, and reduce the sufferer once more to a whimpering wreck.

She realised she might be in for a long wait. Narcissa rose to summon a house elf to fetch her a meal on a tray.

Time passed, and following her light meal Narcissa dozed fitfully in her armchair, waking every so often. She noticed during one waking period that one of the house elves had covered her with a quilt, and removed the tray, placing a ewer of spring water and a goblet at her elbow. Each time, she checked on Lucius, but he was still unconscious.

Narcissa opened her eyes, feeling slightly more awake than before, and realised that it was very dark. It must be the middle of the night. She stood up and stretched, feeling dirty and creased. She began to think over the situation more logically. How long would Lucius take to wake up? If he had already been unconscious for days lying in the dungeon, there was no reason why it should not be more days before he came to. She could not maintain a vigil at his bedside for that amount of time without sleeping herself, and her attempt at sleeping in the chair had left her feeling cramped and unrefreshed. She must take care of herself. Lucius would need her when he regained consciousness. She looked at him lying there. The bed was wide, there was room for her too. She would get in beside him. Surely she would wake if he did - and why would she be more likely to do so if she remained in the chair? On the contrary, surely she would more easily register any change in Lucius if she were lying beside him?

She removed her outer clothes, laid them neatly on the chair, and slipped into bed beside her husband, trying to create as little disturbance as possible.

The next morning, Narcissa awoke, feeling far more like a normal witch after a dreamless slumber. Lucius had not yet woken. She rose, and after setting a house elf to watch over his supine form, and give him more water, she went to bathe. Once the house elf had filled the sturdy granite bath with water as hot as she could stand, Narcissa stepped in and lay back amongst the clouds of steam, feeling her knotted muscles gradually relaxing. She thought once more about her present situation. Lucius' recovery was her first priority, but she had other pressing matters to worry about.

Narcissa had switched on all her charm when dealing with Mark Chang yesterday. She had not been sure that she would succeed with him, he seemed impervious to her change in manner. However, after giving him what she told him was all the gold in the manor, she had eventually managed to obtain a few days' grace for the remainder of the sum owed. Now she needed both to visit Gringotts - the amount of money she required would not be ceded for less than a personal visit - and then to liquidate some of the Black/Malfoy family assets in order to pay Chang. She would therefore need time to arrange all this.

And what danger still lurked in the dungeons? She would have to investigate before long, and she would have to go alone. All the house elves were terrified of whatever lay there, and she instinctively knew that no amount of bullying would make any of them accompany her, given that they had already dared to leave their Master unattended at the mercy of the unnamed horror. At that thought she shivered, even as the steam caused sweat to run down her face, and hoped fervently that the house elves were right, and whatever it was would not venture into the rest of the castle.

Suddenly, as she thought of the house elves, Narcissa realised what small thing had been niggling her ever since she had arrived. She had not seen Twinkle performing any of the house elves' duties. This was odd, because she was an elf who favoured upstairs work: cleaning, laying the table and serving meals. She disliked cooking and other kitchen work, so was usually on view, unlike a couple of the others, who preferred to remain out of sight, and thus less likely to incur their Master's displeasure. She would ask Poppy, who had drawn her bath, and was waiting in the dressing room next door for Narcissa to summon her.

But this thought was driven from her mind when Poppy entered the bathroom unasked, to announce that Master was stirring, and seemed to be on the verge of waking. Narcissa stood immediately, water streaming from her body. Poppy helped to rub her down with a soft towel, but Narcissa could not wait to be completely dried, and, wearing a towelling robe, her fair hair dark and hanging in rats' tails, she hurried back to Lucius' bedside. There she saw that indeed he was very restless, and was muttering under his breath. The peaceful look he had temporarily gained while unconscious was gone, to be replaced by the agonised expression of the day before. Narcissa took Lucius' hand in hers, and spoke to him softly, hoping that her voice would help to bring him back from wherever his mind had taken him.

After an interval of about half an hour, Lucius' eyes opened suddenly. They remained unfocussed, but Narcissa felt her hand being squeezed, and her heart lifted a little to know that he recognised her presence. Lucius' mouth opened too, as if he were trying to speak. Narcissa signed to Poppy to wet his mouth again. Lucius' tongue flicked round his cracked lips as he responded to the water squeezed carefully into his mouth. Then, very quietly, his voice rasping, he spoke awkwardly, his swollen tongue making words difficult. Squeezing Narcissa's hand, he said:

"Cho. Cho, my love."

Narcissa Malfoy had two big secrets: the first one was that she still loved Lucius Malfoy. If truth were told, she felt nothing at all for the string of young men she seduced or allowed to seduce her, although she enjoyed the physical thrills, and frequently succeeded in convincing herself that she had an ideal life. It was only occasionally that she admitted to herself that she felt a deep pain in her chest whenever she allowed herself to think of Lucius making love to another woman.

Lucius' words to her now were like a knife turning in her heart.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Cho Chang woke as her alarm clock sounded, the sprite inside it singing as loudly as it could in a melodious voice. Following the few moments it took her to realise where she was and what day it was, Cho recognised that familiar sinking feeling in her chest. It was a work day: she must get up, dress herself smartly, make up her face carefully, and prepare to serve yet another set of customers. She must smile and pretend that all was well even though her heart was breaking. She tried to think happier thoughts, to enjoy the sight of the lightening crimson sky that greeted her when she pulled back the curtains and looked over the rooftops of Diagon Alley. But whatever she tried, her thoughts always returned to the source of her heartbreak: Lucius Malfoy.

Cho followed her usual morning routine, finding some comfort in the familiar, repetitive ritual. Finally, washed, dressed, and with her hair neatly pinned up, she tried to make herself eat some breakfast, but found she was unable to swallow, so settled for a glass of fresh orange juice. She knew Alan would make them both tea, as he did every day after he arrived, and he would make sure she drank hers. Cho went downstairs to check all was well in the shop, and then unlocked the front door.

It was mid morning. Everything had followed a normal, everyday pattern, with a steady stream of customers, each with garments at a different stage in the tailoring process. Alan was in the changing room with Cornelius Fudge, who was being measured for a jacket. Cho was writing in her large leather-bound diary, as she had a lull before her next appointment was due. She looked up from the book as the bell announced the opening of the shop door.

Cho was greeted by the sight of Narcissa Malfoy entering her premises.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Female of the Species**

**Chapter 3**

Mrs Malfoy swept up to the counter, and stood before Cho imperiously. Cho, trying to hide her agitation, greeted her in a slightly subdued manner. Narcissa Malfoy was the last person she needed to see just now, it was like rubbing salt in the wound. Lucius had chosen to return to this woman when Cho thought all was well between them. Had she come to gloat?

"Good morning, Miss Chang," replied Mrs Malfoy. She regarded Cho steadily. Cho found it hard not to shrink under the scrutiny of those piercing cornflower blue eyes. Eventually, Narcissa spoke, "Miss Chang, I would like you to come with me to Glen Moy Castle. Lucius needs you."

Cho could not stop herself from gaping at Lucius' wife. "I'm sorry, Mrs Malfoy," she managed eventually, "But I hardly think that's appropriate."

"Appropriate?" Narcissa almost spat out the words, her eyes glacier blue. "You dare to tell me what is appropriate? It's hardly appropriate that you should be conducting an affair with my husband, but he has expressed a wish for your presence. If he needs you, I think the least you can do is fulfil his request." Narcissa's eyes flashed as she said this, and Cho suddenly realised that Lucius had been wrong when he told her that his wife did not care that he spent so much of his time with his paramours. For a fleeting moment, she felt sorry for Narcissa Malfoy: to possess Lucius Malfoy was the heart's desire of so many, but she who did possess him did so only on his own selfish terms.

Cho said next, "Mrs Malfoy, you misunderstand. Lucius ended our relationship almost two weeks ago. He was very clear on the matter. I find it very hard to believe that he wishes to see me now. Perhaps you've misunderstood what Lucius wants?" Her words were chosen carefully, and Cho tried hard to control her emotions and her expression, but when she stopped speaking, her voice had sunk to a whisper, and she was fighting back the tears.

Narcissa looked at Cho. Cho suddenly saw that Lucius' wife was worried, and was only standing tall by force of will alone. Instinctively, she offered a chair to Narcissa, and said that she would make them both some tea. Narcissa seemed about to protest, but then sat down suddenly and fell silent, as if she were thinking.

While Cho was making the tea, Cornelius Fudge and Alan emerged from the changing room. Fudge greeted Narcissa effusively in his usual obsequious way, and did not appear to notice that she was not paying him any attention: "Hello, Narcissa. I hope you're well. Are you buying yet another ball gown from Miss Chang?" Narcissa responded with the minimum required by civility. However, Fudge was used to this treatment from the Malfoys and the Blacks, and continued blithely to address her as if all were well. Alan took in the situation immediately, and diplomatically steered Fudge to the door, and saw him off the premises. He then turned and examined Mrs Malfoy minutely, while appearing to search for something under the counter.

Cho returned with a tea tray. She busied herself pouring out the camomile tisane from the bamboo-handled Chinese teapot, and handed a porcelain cup to Narcissa. Now she had run out of things to do, she wondered what to say to Lucius' wife. However, Narcissa spoke first:

"Miss Chang, do you care for my husband? Don't bother to try and hide it. I can see that you do. If he did indeed end your relationship, I assume it was his decision and not yours?" She scrutinised Cho's face.

Cho replied reluctantly, "It was his decision, yes."

"Then it would grieve you to know that Lucius is very ill indeed?" Cho gasped involuntarily. "What's wrong with him?" she asked, forgetting all else in her concern for him. Narcissa regarded Cho steadily for a few moments.

"Miss Chang, you have been to Glen Moy Castle recently, I understand?" she continued smoothly. Cho agreed that this was so. "Did you go into the dungeons?"

Alan, who had been quietly observing the exchange between the two women, looked up suddenly at this question. Noticing that Narcissa Malfoy's equally keen eyes had spotted his interest, he assumed a nonchalant attitude once more, and continued to sort through the receipts under the counter. Narcissa turned her attention back to Cho Chang. "Well?"

"No, I didn't go into the dungeons. Why do you ask?"

Narcissa looked from Cho to Alan, and seemed confused, but she continued, "Lucius has been attacked by something in the dungeons. I don't know what's down there, but it left him unconscious. He has just started to talk. He's barely coherent, and not yet aware of what he's doing. The first words he spoke were your name, and he continues to address you as if you were there."

Cho looked stunned. She could not believe what she was hearing. Lucius had given her up for his wife, and now he was asking for her? Perhaps he was just confused? Had he somehow forgotten his last words to her? But Lucius needed her, she must go to him. Narcissa Malfoy must love him dearly if she had come here with the sole purpose of fetching Cho. Given the Malfoy/Black pride, it would be costing her dear to admit that Lucius cared for another woman so much. Narcissa's obvious concern for Lucius' welfare must mean that he was very gravely ill indeed. Cho nodded, and said that of course she would go with Narcissa to Scotland.

"Perhaps you would like to fetch a few things to bring with you?" said Narcissa sweetly. Cho disappeared upstairs to pack a small bag, while Mrs Malfoy turned her penetrative gaze towards Alan. "You miss nothing, Mr Forbes," she observed drily. "Neither do I. You know something about the dungeons at Glen Moy Castle, but what I wonder? And why does Miss Chang not know if you do? I would find it hard to believe that my husband confided to you something that he did not discuss with her. Still, the why is unimportant. What do you know?"

Alan stood in mute defiance. His first loyalty was to Cho. He would not divulge what he knew without very careful consideration of the effect this action might have on her. As for Lucius Malfoy, Alan did not give a damn what happened to him. If he were to die, it would be no loss to the wizarding world. He felt similarly hostile towards Mrs Malfoy, and would certainly not go out of his way to help her. Alan looked at Lucius' wife, and felt that she had the mouth of a siren and the eyes of Caligula. In this battle of wills, she would find Alan just as determined as herself. When Cho came back downstairs, it was to a continuing silence that could be cut with a knife.

Alan reassured Cho that he would deal with the shop while she was away. He would tell that day's clients that Cho had been called away urgently because a family member was sick, see as many of them as possible himself, and reschedule the rest. He would then contact Cho's cousin Suzy, who had offered to serve in the shop if ever they were short-staffed. If necessary, he would even arrange to deliver sewing to Cho in Scotland.

Cho Chang and Narcissa Malfoy disapparated with a crack, heading for Glen Moy Castle.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Cho sat in the armchair by Lucius' bed, stunned by the change in him since she had last seen him such a short time ago. Then he had looked worried and haggard, but still supremely in control. She would never forget the way he had told her he was ending their relationship. He had spoken to her almost coldly, and she had genuinely believed that he had grown tired of her. Now, half awake, he looked as if he was in agony. He tossed and turned, and every so often he spoke. Sometimes the words were clear, and sometimes she had difficulty making sense of what he was saying. But one thing was plain: he said Cho's name frequently, and when she took his hand, he held it so tightly that she began to lose the feeling in her fingers. Cho spoke back to him, and he seemed to pause a while before resuming his ramblings - or was that just her fancy? She realised she may have to stay here some considerable time before Lucius regained full consciousness.

Narcissa watched from the doorway, unobserved by Cho, whom she had left alone with her husband some time ago. Narcissa felt the familiar squeezing in her chest as she watched Cho leaning over Lucius, speaking softly to him, her black head bent over the hand she was holding tightly. She could see that Lucius was responding to Cho's voice in a way he had not when she herself had sat in the same seat.

Once he had started to stray, it had not taken Narcissa long to realise that the one thing Lucius Malfoy could not tolerate was a clinging, needy female. So, she had taught herself not to care. She knew that, as the mother of his heir, Lucius would not leave her if she never complained about his many willing lovers: she created an atmosphere in which he could do as he chose, and yet always come home to a comfortable home and her willing arms. Yet, now, resentment and relief fought each other in her breast, and she clenched her fists by her side. The one thing that had sustained Narcissa through all the years of Lucius' infidelity had been that most of the women had been but passing fancies, and even the few that Lucius continued to see on a regular basis were no more than an outlet for his sexual desire. She had felt secure in the fact that she was still his one and only true love: even if Lucius no longer loved her in the same way that she still loved him, he had never found another woman to supplant her in his affections. They were so similar, Narcissa Black and Lucius Malfoy: both beautiful, selfish, arrogant, and attracted to the power offered by the Dark Side of magic. When she looked at him, it was like looking in a mirror reflecting a male version of herself. Each complemented the other and made a formidable whole, standing together against the world. But now, Narcissa felt a chink in their joint armour, as if a cleaver had been driven between them: Lucius must actually feel something for the Chang girl, otherwise why would he react so to her voice?

She sighed wearily as she planned her next move. No matter how much she longed to stay near Lucius, in her head she knew that she could not: she must go to London, to Gringotts, in order to pay Mark Chang. But knowing this was the logical thing to do did not make it any easier to leave her husband with a mistress; especially this mistress after what she had just seen.

Narcissa Malfoy resolutely pulled back her shoulders, turned her back on the room, and walked away. She held her head high, ignoring the pricking at the back of her eyes.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………

Narcissa's glacial stare had no effect whatsoever on the goblin standing impassively before her. "No key, no entry," said Griphook firmly.

Narcissa had never before regretted the fact that upon marriage she had insisted on keeping her money separate from Lucius'. Now she cursed under her breath. She had the key to her own vault, but even though she had searched high and low, and had set the house elves to do the same, despite much bullying and cajoling they had been unable to locate the key to Lucius' vault. Lucius also had a high security vault that could only be opened by a Gringotts goblin stroking the door to melt away the enchantment sealing it. Narcissa knew there was absolutely no way she would ever gain access to this latter vault without Lucius' presence, that was a fundamental Gringotts rule, but she had hoped to persuade the bank staff to let her into his other vault, by telling them in hushed and serious tones that Lucius Malfoy was very ill indeed, and unable to communicate to his wife where he had stored the key. Goblins, she reflected ruefully, were immune to the charms of a beautiful woman. Her concerned expression (not entirely false) and her huge blue eyes, enhanced by a touch of belladonna, were wasted on creatures whose womenfolk were judged solely by their ability to carry out heavy manual work.

Determinedly, Narcissa asked to see the manager himself. She would give it one last try. Griphook told Mrs Malfoy that he believed she was wasting her time, but led her to the manager's office.

In the office, she was greeted by Mr Gringott himself, the twenty-third of that name. He gestured for Mrs Malfoy to take a seat, and listened gravely to her story, which she embroidered even more than the version she had given Griphook. Then she waited for Gringott's verdict. His decision would be final, there was no higher authority at the wizarding bank. Gringott raised his eyebrows, and looked at Mrs Malfoy from serious brown eyes in a deeply lined face.

"Mrs Malfoy, you understand the rules at Gringotts. All our customer accounts are completely confidential. When you married Lucius Malfoy, I explained personally the advantages and disadvantages of keeping your assets separate. You chose to have separate vaults. This arrangement has suited you very well all these years. We have even allowed you the concession, following written permission from your husband, of accessing his vault so long as you have its key in your possession. We cannot change Gringotts rules just for one person. This is the kind of eventuality we advised you to consider when you made these arrangements. Naturally, you may access your own vault today, and if you return with the key, you may access your husband's at any time. I do not need to remind you that magical attempts to forge a new key will be detected immediately.

"Good day, Mrs Malfoy. Griphook will escort you to your own vault."


	4. Chapter 4

**The Female of the Species**

**Chapter 4**

As Narcissa Malfoy already knew before Griphook unlocked the heavy reinforced oak door, a quick tally of all the gold in her vault soon revealed that she did not have the sum she needed. She told Griphook that she wished to withdraw all her money, and requested the bank staff to bag it up neatly for her, and have it sent by magical transport to Chang Jade Holdings for the attention of Mark Chang.

She then gathered all the jewellery she had stored in her vault, and put each of the velvet-lined boxes into a large tapestry bag she had brought with her. She sighed inwardly as family heirlooms from both the Blacks and Malfoys were added to the many gifts she had received from Lucius and her various lovers. There were pieces in gold and Slytherin silver, set with precious and semi-precious stones in many colours, for each jewel held a meaning for Narcissa: emeralds, olivine and malachite for the green of Slytherin; sapphires, turquoise and aquamarines to complement her blue eyes; rubies and garnets the colour of blood; diamonds for their icy brilliance; Australian opals for their milky rainbow hues and hidden fire; and pearls from the Malfoy Scottish pearl beds, where water sprites deliberately and painstakingly set irritants in freshwater mussels to produce softly glistening gems with a pinkish lustre.

While the staff were busy packing her gold, Narcissa sat at a vast oak table in the main banking hall, and penned a note to accompany her payment. Its composition took such a long time, as she weighed each word with care, that the letter was not finished until all her galleons were waiting for her in row upon row of leather bags.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Alan looked up as Suzy came into the workroom, where he was busy sewing Cornelius Fudge's jacket. "There's a scary-looking woman asking for you," she told him. Alan smiled ruefully. An extra pair of hands was very useful during Cho's absence, but Suzy was rather scatterbrained, and sometimes checking up on her meant that she did not really save him any time at all. "Did it occur to you to ask her name?" he asked, not particularly expecting a positive reply. Suzy shook her head. "I didn't dare."

Alan walked into the shop, and saw Narcissa Malfoy standing haughtily by the counter. "Mrs Malfoy, I believe you were asking for me?" Alan wondered what she wanted, although he thought he could guess. He noted with slight amusement that she had obviously dressed very carefully indeed. Her midnight blue cloak was thrown back over her shoulders to reveal a crushed velvet gown precisely the colour of her eyes, its cut extremely décolleté, revealing a great deal of her alabaster white breasts. Alan missed nothing, and deduced her use of belladonna. When he looked into the brilliant blue eyes he saw that their pupils had dilated so much that, were he less easily fooled, he could almost believe she desired him.

"Mr Forbes," Mrs Malfoy said, smiling in a seductive way, "I believe we got off to a bad start when we met last time. Perhaps we could start again?" She gave him a most winning smile, and leaned even further forward so that the view down her dress almost reached her toes. Alan found it hard not to stare, for he appreciated beautiful women, in a purely aesthetic way naturally. He tore his eyes away from Narcissa's bosom, and looked directly at her.

"Mrs Malfoy," he said in reply, "You are a very beautiful woman," Narcissa's eyes gleamed in triumph, "but I should tell you before you say anything you may later regret, that firstly I have a partner at the moment, and secondly that his name is John."

Her reaction was immediate. Quick as a flash, Narcissa pulled her cloak more closely around her, and stood up straight. At first, she glared at Alan accusingly. Then, as she realised that this would not achieve anything, he saw her make a great effort, and rearrange her features into a pleasant expression, as she laughed at herself deprecatingly. "Thank you for preventing me from making a complete fool of myself, Mr Forbes. Although, if I had thought about it for a moment, I would have guessed that your tastes lay elsewhere. Please accept my apologies. But you must see that I only did it because I really need to know - Mr Forbes, please tell me, what exactly do you know about what is in the dungeons at Glen Moy Castle?" The huge blue eyes looked at Alan pleadingly once more.

Alan had been rehearsing his reply should she ask this question again. He was still unsure of Mrs Malfoy's motives. Was she really ignorant of Lucius' recent activities? When it was common knowledge that the Dark Lord was alive but weak, there had been no doubt that Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy had worked together to aid his return. Lucius had been the more visible Death Eater, but it was well known that Narcissa had carried out a few dangerous missions herself. The two of them were perfectly matched in evil and lust for power. However, since the demise of He Who Must Not Be Named, many pure blood wizards had claimed that they had never been Death Eaters, or they had been so merely under duress. These witches and wizards had been accepted back into the wizarding world with varying degrees of success and suspicion. It was possible that Mrs Malfoy had, chameleon-like, adapted to this new situation so completely that Lucius had kept her in ignorance of the true state of affairs. Or perhaps she remained a true Black, and Lucius was merely protecting her by not telling her what she did not yet need to know.

The effect of any revelation on Cho remained Alan's primary concern. He had asked himself what he really knew, and it was very little. He knew that the Dark Lord had used legilimency on Cho and tried to rape her, but he did not know for a fact that this had taken place in the dungeons at Glen Moy Castle. He had merely deduced this from the attack on Lucius, presumably carried out in furious retaliation for his timely rescue of Cho. But Lucius Malfoy had modified Cho's memory so that she would not remember anything of the attempted attack. Alan had gently probed her recall of events at Glen Moy Castle each time she raised the subject, and Lucius had done a very good job. He had left all her memories intact of the good times she and he had enjoyed together, and removed her ability to recall those final terrifying events so skilfully that Cho had no confusing gaps. So far as Cho was concerned, she had left the castle during the morning of the attempted assault because Lucius had some important work to do. She had been very ill because she had mistakenly taken an overdose of an extremely potent poison, and she had been hurt and stunned when, following her recovery, Lucius had quietly and firmly told her it was all over between them.

Alan felt that it would be very unwise to mention anything of Cho's real experience to Lucius Malfoy's wife. He guessed that Mrs Malfoy's public nonchalance over her husband's behaviour was a carefully cultivated front. He could not risk her using this knowledge to hurt Cho, deliberately or otherwise. Also, he did not see why Narcissa's own life should be in any danger from the Dark Lord. She had done nothing to annoy him, and he suspected that her feminine wiles might work very well with He Who Must Not Be Named, given that Lucius had said he was starved of female company. Would he feel guilty if Mrs Malfoy were attacked in the manner devised for Cho? A little maybe, but Cho mattered much more to him than any former Death Eater.

Alan now turned to Narcissa, and said, "Mrs Malfoy, I know nothing at all about your dungeons. Have you asked your house elves?"

"Of course I've asked the house elves, you stupid boy!" shouted Narcissa impatiently. Alan raised his eyebrows at her, and shook his head almost imperceptibly: such a display was not going to get Mrs Malfoy anywhere. He watched her rearrange her face again. Really, Mrs Malfoy was quite the consummate actress. He wondered if any of her apparent emotions were real. Yes, one at least was real: she was worried about Lucius, and if he was any judge, she loved him deeply.

"Mrs Malfoy, Cho and I are very good friends indeed. I am, as you probably guessed, frequently her confidant. However, she never told me any details of what happened between herself and your husband. You see, when Cho cares for someone, she stops sharing. It's too personal for her. I could tell that she cared very much for Lucius. So she did not tell me anything about her trips to Glen Moy Castle, except superficial things such as taking a walk up Ben Foy, or what she had for dinner. So I can't help you." Alan hoped that by stressing the fact that Cho had been in love with Lucius, he could distract Narcissa from her quest. He hoped she would not press him, as he could not explain away his reaction the day before when she had asked Cho about the dungeons.

Alan then took a deep breath before he added, in what he hoped sounded like a more conciliatory tone, "However, you obviously think that there is danger of some sort in your castle dungeons. I hope that you are not intending to expose Cho to this danger? I'm relying on your honour as a member of an old wizarding family, and your duty as a hostess. Please take good care of Cho while she's at Glen Moy Castle."

Narcissa Malfoy regarded Alan steadily. "Your loyalty does you credit, Mr Forbes," she said drily. "I'm sure many women would love to have a friend like you. I believe you're not telling me the whole truth, but I can see you're not prepared to say more. Naturally Miss Chang will be accorded all the honour due to a guest. I'll bid you Good Day." With the ghost of a smile, and a flash of blue eyes, Narcissa turned around, and Alan watched the back of her elegant blonde head as she walked purposefully out into Diagon Alley. He exhaled slowly, recognising as he did so the gradual release of tension in his shoulders.

But Alan knew he would not stop worrying until Cho was safely back home.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The sun was low in the western sky, painting it with abandoned shades of orange and carmine, when Narcissa arrived back at Glen Moy Castle. She apparated in the grounds so that she could stand for a moment and drink in the view. She took a few deep breaths, and tried to relax as she thought over the events of the day.

After leaving Cho's Chic, Narcissa had been to Malfoy Manor and collected the rest of her jewellery, the pieces she wore most frequently. She had then returned to Diagon Alley to see Ruby Argent, ostensibly for an up-to-date valuation of her pieces, but Ruby was a very astute woman, and Narcissa knew she was not fooled. She could tell her customer needed ready cash, and valued the pieces accordingly. Narcissa had wondered, should she visit other merchants to obtain more prices for comparison, so that she could play one off against the other? She would have done this if everything were normal: but it was not - if all were normal she would never have parted with her treasures - and she did not have the luxury of time. Then a thought had suddenly occurred to her: she could take her jewellery to Goudbollen. She had never been into his premises in her life, it was the place for wizards whose fortunes had taken a turn for the worse, but there was a first time for everything. Narcissa smiled at Ruby, informed her of this plan, and said she would part with her jewellery to the higher bidder. Ruby looked at Narcissa with new respect, and upped her offer considerably.

Narcissa had then walked to the far end of Knockturn Alley, and turned into a narrow wynd. The buildings here were run down and poorly maintained, with peeling paintwork and dirty windows. If businesses occupied them, it was impossible to tell their nature, for there were no signs over the windows, and no name plates beside the doors. But it was easy enough to spot Goudbollen's shop: it alone looked occupied, and hanging over the door was the universal sign of three golden spheres. Taking a deep breath, Narcissa entered through the solid door, which creaked loudly as she stepped over the threshold.

Behind the counter stood a man in dusty brown robes, who looked up briefly to check who had entered, and then immediately put aside his copy of _The Daily Prophet_, took off his gold-rimmed glasses, and shambled forward to greet his customer.

"Good morning, Mrs Malfoy. Goudbollen at your service. I don't believe we've had a Malfoy in here since your father-in-law gambled away most of his fortune on a dragon fight."


	5. Chapter 5

**The Female of the Species**

**Chapter 5**

Goudbollen held out his hand, and Narcissa shook it, trying not to grimace at the slimy feel of both his flesh and his worn fingerless gloves, and to hide her surprise that he knew at once who she was. Of course, the Malfoys were one of the leading wizard families. Their social events were reported in _Witch Weekly_, and their fortunes followed by _The Daily Prophet_. It was inevitable that Narcissa Malfoy's distinctive blonde head would be recognised.

"What can I do for you, Mrs Malfoy?" Goudbollen gestured to a chair by the counter, in front of which was a low table, presumably for customers to show him their wares. Narcissa sat down gingerly on the rickety frame, and Goudbollen drew up an even less stable-looking chair for himself, giving Mrs Malfoy a gap-toothed smile.

However, Goudbollen's appearance belied his keen business brain. He knew the value of everything and the price of everything. He, like Ruby, knew that Narcissa needed to sell immediately, and this meant he could offer her less for her pledges. On the other hand, he saw immediately that Mrs Malfoy had indeed brought him a wealth of treasures such as he had never seen before all together at one time. His greasy palms itched to own them. She had not told him how much Ruby Argent had offered for the jewellery, merely that she would deal with the higher bidder. Of course, the advantage of dealing with Goudbollen would be the possibility of redeeming her treasures. He wondered how straitened were her circumstances, and whether this last was a realistic possibility? Silently he made his calculations, as he examined each piece closely with a lens, lips moving soundlessly. Finally, Goudbollen scrawled a figure on a torn piece of parchment, and pushed it towards Mrs Malfoy.

Narcissa was a mistress of hiding her true feelings: if wizards had played poker, she would have been an expert bluffer. She offered Goudbollen a tight smile, and murmured that his was a very good offer, but Ruby Argent's was better. However, she wanted to deal with him because she hoped to be able to regain possession of some or all of her jewellery. Could he see his way to upping the offer slightly?

Fifteen minutes later, Narcissa Malfoy had left Goudbollen's accompanied by the satisfying clink of gold coins in her tapestry bag. She had successfully fooled the pawnbroker into offering her more than he had intended. His initial offer had already been more than Ruby's. But she had kept a straight face until she was well out of sight of the narrow wynd, and then allowed herself to smile somewhat ruefully before heading back to Scotland.

Now, gazing at the glowing sky over Ben Foy, Narcissa realised that the worries of the day had created physical symptoms: she could feel the muscles taut under her skin if she gripped her own shoulders. She wished she could afford the luxury of time spent with the house elf Fingers: he lived at Malfoy Manor, and was so named because he was a genius at massage. He was such an expert at pummelling and smoothing out all one's tensions that Narcissa's female friends were prepared to repay her generously in favours for his services. But there was no time for such non-essentials now. Taking one last look at the blood-red loch, and shivering slightly as she felt an autumnal nip in the air, Narcissa turned her back on the glories of nature, and walked into the castle.

Once divested of her cloak, handed to the house elf who magically appeared to greet her, Narcissa went immediately to Lucius' bedroom to see if he had improved. She found Lucius asleep, with Cho sat quietly beside him, sewing an emerald green ball gown by the light of the oil lamps. Narcissa almost chided her for straining her eyes, and then remembered that she was supposed to hate Cho Chang. She wondered to herself, Did she indeed hate Miss Chang? She thought not. She felt resentful and jealous, yes, but how could she blame any woman for wanting Lucius when she wanted him so much herself? If Lucius paid them any attention at all, they would almost all settle for the little he was prepared to give them, that was the effect he had on most females.

Cho turned round as she heard Narcissa enter the room. Narcissa said to her, "I see Lucius is asleep at the moment. How has he been?"

"He was the same as when you left. He's been half awake, tossing and turning, and talking most of the time. Occasionally, he's been in real agony."

"Has he said anything that made sense?"

"No, not really." Narcissa saw Cho blush at this, and wondered what further endearments he had spoken to her. Ignoring this, she asked, "So you didn't learn any more about what attacked him?" Cho shook her head.

"I need to ask you something, Miss Chang. Please come into the drawing room with me while Lucius is sleeping. One of the house elves can sit with him, and let us know if he wakes."

The two women went downstairs into the large drawing room, where dark green velvet curtains were drawn against the cool night air, and the soft glow of lamps illuminated the antique Flemish tapestries lining the wood panelled walls. Narcissa rang for a house elf, and after ordering a buffet meal to be served by the flickering log fire burning cheerfully in the grate, she indicated that Cho should sit in one of the armchairs beside the sheepskin hearth rug. She poured them each some wine from the decanter on the oak sideboard, and, handing a pewter goblet to Cho, she sat on the edge of the armchair opposite her.

"Miss Chang, I understand that Mark Chang of Chang Jade Holdings is your brother?" she said.

Cho nodded, looking confused at the sudden introduction of this topic. "Yes, well he's actually my half brother."

"Are you close?" asked Narcissa.

Cho looked even more puzzled. "No, not really. He's so much older than me. His mother died quite a long time before my parents married. By the time I was born, he'd already started working for Grandad and left home. I don't see him very often. Why do you ask?"

Narcissa sighed involuntarily. Should she tell Cho Chang her tale of woe? She would lose so much face by letting her husband's mistress know that she had not been told about Lucius' business affairs. She wondered if Cho knew anything herself, given that Lucius had likely been dealing with her grandfather. She decided to ask.

"Was Lucius involved in some kind of business deal with your grandfather?"

"Yes," replied Cho immediately, "But I don't know what it was. Lucius wouldn't tell me when I asked him, and made it very clear that I was not to ask again."

Narcissa nodded. That sounded just like Lucius. "He bought a large quantity of jade. A **very** large quantity."

"Well, that makes sense. Grandad is the main world trader in jade." Cho frowned. Something on the edge of her memory was trying to make itself known, but when she tried to catch it, the thought dissolved.

"Lucius made an arrangement to pay Chang Jade Holdings in instalments, but because he was unconscious for so long in the dungeons he missed a payment. Mark Chang came to Malfoy Manor demanding that I settle the account." Narcissa looked at Cho, but saw no reaction on her face. Presumably this meant that she had no knowledge of the tactics used by her grandfather's company when money was owed. "He arrived with a Mr Tan," she elaborated. Still no reaction. "Mr Tan is a very large man, and was very threatening."

Now, Cho's eyes were wide with astonishment. "What did he threaten to do?"

"Nothing definite, but it was no less a threat for that. Mark Chang gave me a copy of Lucius' account. I couldn't believe how much he had spent. I made an arrangement with Mr Chang, but it relied on my having access to Lucius' vault at Gringotts. I've been unable to find his key, and Mr Gringott will not allow me to open the vault without it. I've sent all my own money to Mr Chang, and I've just sold all my jewellery to get more, but I cannot settle the rest of the account without selling some of the family assets. I sent a note to this effect with my payment, but I wonder how amenable Mr Chang and Mr Tan are in such circumstances?

"Miss Chang, could you have a word with your brother, and explain the situation? He will be paid, but I need time."

Cho looked at Narcissa Malfoy with a small frown on her tired face. That niggling thought just beyond reach kept scratching at the surface of her brain, but all attempts to hold on to it failed. She shook her head to clear it, and replied that she would see her brother the next day.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Two days later, Cho sat by Lucius' bed once more, still sewing the same green dress. The previous day, she had reluctantly left Glen Moy Castle, and gone to seek out her half brother at Chang Jade Holdings, bearing the proceeds from the sale of the jewellery. She had felt very uncomfortable indeed acting as Narcissa Malfoy's envoy. She hoped her brother was not going to ask her any awkward questions about why she was involved in the matter. However, Mark did not ask anything at all; but Cho had the feeling that the reason for this was that he knew all about her affair with Lucius Malfoy, even though nothing was said. She suspected that her grandfather had shared his knowledge with Mark, and this made her wonder who else knew. Neither did Mark comment on Cho's haggard appearance, of which she herself was only too well aware.

Cho's visit had been moderately successful so far as Narcissa was concerned. Mark had given her an extension for settlement of the account, but had insisted on adding high interest charges, with the warning that the rate would increase if Narcissa were to default again.

This matter having been resolved, Narcissa had left Cho alone once more at the castle with Lucius and the house elves. She had gone to France, where she had a house inherited from a French aunt. She planned to sell this beautiful property overlooking the Mediterranean at Cap Ferrat, and hoped to find a customer willing to make a quick purchase. She had a buyer in mind, a local wizard who had long admired the house, and asked for first refusal should she ever change her mind and decide she wished to sell. Luckily for Narcissa, as desperate to sell the house as the jewels, the wizard had already offered a fair price, and told her he would not pay her less than that if she sold within two years.

Cho's attention was divided between Lucius and the dress. She needed to finish the evening gown, it was for one of her best customers, and she had just begun to sew mother-of-pearl sequins all over the bodice. Lucius had more moments now when he seemed almost awake, and he spoke even more frequently, but most of the time it seemed to make little sense. Once or twice, Cho heard him say "My Lord." This made her shiver slightly, and she wondered if he was dreaming of days long ago when he still served the Dark Lord. Then the thought that had been trying to catch her attention seemed even more insistent, but once more it eluded her.

The house elves dropped in frequently to check whether Cho had need of anything, and in this way she obtained meals on a tray, and once even left Poppy to watch Lucius while she went for a brief stroll in the grounds in order to try and straighten her stiff back and relax her tense shoulders. Cho made herself walk around Loch Moy and breathe in the pure Highland air, even though every fibre of her being was screaming at her to get back to Lucius. She need not have worried. When she got back to his room, Poppy told her that he had been just the same.

As Cho watched and sewed, her eyes began to droop, and she realised how tired she was. She had slept briefly for two nights in a guest room at the castle, but had been unable to relax enough to have a real night's rest. Also, now that Narcissa was to be absent overnight, she realised how much the presence of Lucius' wife had helped to make her feel permanently on edge, as she had felt the undercurrent of resentment emanating from the older woman. In spite of her concern about Lucius, Cho could feel herself falling asleep. Then she dropped her needle, and had to crawl around on the Persian carpet, feeling carefully around and looking for it by the light of the oil lamps lit against the dull afternoon. When she finally found the needle after almost driving it into her palm, she decided to put the sequinned gown to one side and rest. Cho summoned Poppy and was about to leave the room, when suddenly two thoughts occurred to her: Narcissa would be away for at least two nights, so she need not worry about her reaction to anything Cho did; and Lucius was sleeping in a four poster bed large enough for two - the same bed she had shared with him a handful of times. If she slept beside him, she would be on hand if there was any change in his condition, and surely this would mean she would sleep more soundly?

Once clad in the nightgown Poppy had fetched from her guest room, Cho slid under the covers beside Lucius. The elf remained on watch, sitting in the gathering dark, her luminous eyes glowing slightly. House elves had excellent night vision, and so she needed no candle or lamp to see Lucius. Cho felt self-conscious at first with Poppy in the room, but she felt a friendliness towards herself from all the Malfoy elves, perhaps because she treated them as she would treat any person. The combination of this and her exhaustion caused her to fall asleep sooner than she would have believed. Even when Lucius began talking it did not wake her, and Poppy let Cho slumber on, recognising that Lucius was still asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Female of the Species**

**Chapter 6**

It was the middle of the night, and Cho awoke. At first, she could not remember where she was, and when she did, she realised the possible cause of her waking was that Lucius' breathing had changed. She was lying on her side with her back towards Lucius, so she turned over carefully, and found herself staring into a pair of calm grey eyes: Lucius was awake, he was quiet, and he knew she was there. Cho smiled at him, tears springing to her eyes. "Lucius," she whispered, "How are you?" Lucius looked back at her with a slightly puzzled expression on his face. "Why do you ask that?" he replied, "And why are you crying?"

Cho could not reply, partly because she was tongue-tied with relief, and partly because she just did not know how to answer Lucius' question: it was obvious that at this moment he did not remember what had happened to him. Instinctively, she threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him full on the mouth. She had expected this to be merely a brief contact, but he responded in such a way that she would never have guessed he had just regained consciousness. He pressed his lips against hers, and pushed his tongue gently into her unresisting mouth, encircled her with his arms, and pulled her towards him. Cho could hardly believe it, and her mind whirled. The last time she remembered seeing Lucius awake, he had told her that he no longer wished to continue their relationship. Now he seemed to have forgotten all about that event too. How long would it take him to remember? Cho then suddenly also remembered that they were not alone. She raised her head, and looked towards the chair, but Poppy was already discreetly on her way to the door. She turned and saw Cho watching her, gave a ghost of a smile, and went out of the room, closing the door softly behind her.

Cho turned her attention back to Lucius. She could not believe that he was feeling so amorous. She melted into his arms and let him take the initiative, as he kissed her mouth, then the sensitive skin of her neck. Opening the buttons on the yoke of her nightgown, he kissed her shoulders and then worked his way slowly down to her breasts. When he took a nipple into his mouth, she gasped with pleasure, and leaned back to allow him maximum access. All worries forgotten for the moment, she gave herself up to sensuous enjoyment, feeling how much she had missed this man who knew her body even better than she did herself. Lucius had not shaved for about two weeks, but Cho put up gladly with the scratchiness, and found that when he caught her nipple with his unshaven chin, a shock of pleasure shot from her breast to between her legs. She felt herself moistening with desire.

Cho stroked Lucius' golden head, and, ignoring the fact that his hair was untidy and greasy, she wound her fingers into it. Lucius was wearing black silk pyjamas, and Cho undid the jacket buttons slowly and slightly awkwardly with her other hand. Then she traced her fingers down his chest, enjoying the feel of his muscles and soft skin under the downy hair. Her hand travelled downwards curiously, and she found the pyjama trousers were straining to contain his warm erection, which seemed to take on a life of its own when she gently touched it. She felt him push himself into her hand, and so she slid her fingers into his waistband, and gripped him firmly, running a finger over the sensitive tip, and spreading his wetness over it. In reaction, Lucius groaned, and nipped her nipple with his teeth, eliciting a soft moan of pleasure from Cho.

Realising that, in spite of Lucius' apparent readiness for action, he was still weak from his ordeal, Cho took the initiative. She calmly disengaged herself from his arms, and sat up so that she could remove the practical and unglamorous cotton nightgown over her head. She tossed it aside, then gently turned Lucius over so that he lay supine, and sat him up to enable her to take off his pyjama jacket, one arm behind him supporting his weight. Lucius co-operated with her actions, but when she tried to lay him back down afterwards, he resisted, and put his head down to her breast once more. Again, his unshaven face caught her nipples, and when he released her breast from his mouth after another playful nip, she deliberately drew her nipples across his chin so that she could enjoy the agonising sensuality of the feeling. Her vagina contracted once more in reaction to the touch.

Lucius lay down, and regarded Cho steadily through eyes darkened with lust as she removed the lower half of his pyjamas, squeezing his perfect buttocks as she slid the trousers over his behind. Cho then straddled Lucius, kneeling over him, and, guiding his manhood with one hand, she lowered herself on to him, enjoying the sensation as he filled her completely. She almost ground him into the mattress as she pressed downwards, taking in as much of him as she could hold. She then began to raise and lower herself, shifting her weight to make him rub against her most sensitive spot on each downstroke. She parted her own lips to expose herself to his touch, and began to ride him with increased urgency.

Initially Lucius lay back and allowed Cho to do all the work, but as her breathing came in shorter gasps, he reached forwards and placed a finger over her clitoris so that each time she came down on him he pressed upwards in response. With expert timing, he waited until he was about to orgasm himself, and then massaged her with the tip of his finger, catching her deliberately with the smooth edge of his fingernail. As Cho felt Lucius' seed exploding into her, simultaneously his knowing touch brought her to a climax. She contracted around him, and cried out in ecstasy as bolts of pleasure shot from her centre into her whole body. Cho shuddered as her orgasm seemed to last forever, wave upon wave. Eventually, she lay forward on top of Lucius, her head on his shoulder, both of them covered in a thin film of sweat. As this began to cool on her exposed back and behind, Lucius pulled the covers back over them both, allowing his hands to linger on Cho's buttocks as he did so, and then wrapped her in his arms.

"That was a nice way to wake up, don't you agree?" he purred into her ear. Cho opened her eyes and looked at him. She could not help smiling back. For a moment, she was happy again, lying in a post coital semi-stupor with Lucius apparently restored both to health and to being her lover once more. But then she looked at him more carefully, and became thoughtful. Lucius still did not look completely well, whatever had attacked him had left its mark. Also, she was convinced that he had only accepted her presence because his period of unconsciousness had affected his memory: eventually he would remember that he had dismissed her from his life. She hoped he would not be angry with her for presuming to return. Lucius had threatened Cho many times, but so far had never had cause to actually mistreat her. But she had no doubt that he would hurt her if he decided she deserved it.

It was still the middle of the night, however. Cho realised by Lucius' breathing that he had fallen asleep once more. She too felt the arms of Morpheus reaching out to claim her, and when Poppy cautiously put her head round the door, she saw her Master and his lover asleep, lying like a pair of spoons, she with her back pressed against his chest, he with a protective arm about her.

Poppy reclaimed her seat, and sat on guard, her eyes gleaming in the dark.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The next day passed in a kind of daze for Cho. Lucius spent part of the day awake, and part asleep. He ate a little, though Cho and Poppy were careful to ensure that he was given only small portions, knowing that gorging himself on an empty stomach would be very unwise. Poppy also washed him down as he lay in bed, for he did not seem to have the strength in his legs to walk to the bathroom. Later, one of the male house elves shaved away Lucius' partial beard growth. Cho flushed a little as she watched this process, remembering the sweet sensations caused by the abundant whiskers.

Lucius still did not know what had happened to him, there seemed to be a large blank space in his memory. However, Cho did not attempt to pursue the matter, for she dreaded his remembering for two reasons: somehow she knew that the thing that had attacked Lucius was too terrible to contemplate, and ignorance was bliss. This thought was confirmed when, periodically throughout the day, Lucius was in such agony that his whole body became rigid, and he had to clamp his jaws together to prevent himself from crying out. Poppy dosed him with a potion Narcissa had left for this purpose. It deadened the pain, but did not prevent the spasms.

But the second reason was purely selfish, for somehow she also knew that if he remembered what had attacked him, Lucius would also remember that he had ended their affair: for the first time, Cho called their liaison "an affair" to herself. While Lucius desired her – she had never fooled herself that he loved her – she wanted him equally strongly. When he had announced the end – and she had always known that it would be he who chose the manner of its ending – she had been shocked and astounded. She had not seen it coming, they had been getting on so well. She had expected that Lucius' interest in her would fade, or another pretty face would attract him away from her, but one morning following an idyllic visit to Glen Moy Castle, he had told her coldly and dispassionately that it was over, and then walked away without a backward glance.

Since Lucius' departure, Cho had spent many hours thinking about him. Every time she returned to the conversations she had had with Alan. He had once pointed out that Lucius may only be wooing her as a way of finding out more about her grandfather, for Sun Chang and he were deeply involved in a very large business deal. A lot of money would change hands, and Lucius needed all his subtlety to bargain with Sun Chang, whose reputation as a negotiator was legendary. It was not by chance that Sun Chang controlled the world price of jade, having bought out all his would-be rivals when he was still a relatively young wizard. Cho frowned. That elusive memory nagged at her again. There was something about the business deal she couldn't remember, and she knew it was important. But she did remember that it had been concluded, and it was shortly afterwards that Lucius had left her. She had reluctantly begun to believe that she been used as a pawn in a much bigger game.

Cho sighed, and did not know what to think. Half of her still loved Lucius – his beauty, his romantic gestures, his knowledgeable and thorough lovemaking, when he had made her feel like the luckiest woman on earth. The other half of her felt she should hate him, for now she felt unclean, and nothing more than a Death Eater's whore, as Harry had once called her. But when she looked at Lucius now, she found she could not hate him. In his present weakened state, his vulnerability combined with his ravaged beauty made her want to heal all his hurts, and she longed for his touch again.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The sun was rising as Narcissa Malfoy apparated beside Loch Moy. Rosy fingers appeared over the dark silhouette of Glen Moy Castle, and the lightening sky took on a transparent greenish hue. Narcissa took a moment to enjoy the view, and breathe in the cold predawn Highland air.

She had not slept well, in spite of satisfactorily concluding the sale of the Cap Ferrat property. Her purchaser admired not only the house and its beautiful location, but also its beautiful owner. Even though he must have been aware that Narcissa was desperate to sell, he neither enquired the reason for her change of heart, nor tried to use this fact to lower the price. He had been, as ever, a perfect gentleman, almost courtly in his manner to her, kissing her cheeks in the French manner on meeting and departing, and kissing her hand frequently during their discourse. Narcissa spoke French fluently, for her maternal grandmother was French, and she had attended Beauxbatons for a year under the Witchcraft Schools Exchange Scheme. She loved the romance of the language, and allowed herself to be charmed by the Provençal wizard's attentions, relaxed in the knowledge that he was far too aware of the proprieties to attempt to seduce any married woman, least of all one who was married to a Malfoy. For a few moments at a time, Narcissa had been able to forget the trouble she was in, and merely enjoy the attentions of her platonic but ardent admirer. The Frenchman had also been most helpful as regards the money: he had supplied her with a large number of bags of gold galleons, left neatly in a row by the fireplace, ready to be sent via the floo network to wherever Narcissa wished. Before returning to Scotland, she had despatched them to Mark Chang in London, requesting that he forward a receipt to Glen Moy Castle.

Tearing her eyes away from the vista before her, Narcissa walked into the castle. Her entrance was as ever greeted by a waiting house elf. Once divested of her travelling cloak and boots, her first thought was of Lucius. Narcissa mounted the stairs quickly, and entered Lucius' bedroom. The curtains were drawn, and the room was full of grey shadows. She made out the profile of Poppy, sitting on guard beside the four poster bed. Poppy heard her footsteps, and turned round suddenly. Poppy's bulging eyes were round and wide with astonishment; she looked back at the bed, and then towards Narcissa once more.

"Don't be alarmed, Poppy, it's only me. I woke up really early, and decided just to come back. With the time difference between here and France, it took almost no time to get here," said Narcissa with unaccustomed kindness, for although she did not physically abuse the house elves like Lucius did, she generally treated them as part of the furniture. She was surprised to note that Poppy's expression did not change, in fact she looked even more worried. Narcissa followed Poppy's gaze as the house elf looked at the bed once more. Then she saw the cause of the elf's consternation.

Outlined against the whiteness of the pillows lay not one head but two, and from their closeness it was clear that Lucius Malfoy and Cho Chang were pressed together under the covers. Lucius' pale hair spread out behind him, his sleeping face partially hidden by Cho's dark, silky tresses. Narcissa thought she could discern the outline of an arm wrapped around Cho under the blankets.

Narcissa closed her eyes, and swallowed. She waited for the familiar ache to begin again in her heart, and when it came, she could hardly breathe. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and when she opened them again, she could see nothing but a blur. Maintaining her dignity as best she could, Narcissa Malfoy turned and walked carefully out of her husband's bedroom, finding her way so precisely merely because she had trodden the route so frequently. Entering her own room along the landing, she softly closed the heavy oak door behind her.

Poppy's sharp house elf ears caught the sound of an almost inhuman howl from her Mistress's room. She shook her head slightly in sorrow, and continued her vigil.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Female of the Species**

**Chapter 7**

Cho went slowly downstairs, after Poppy had hinted very strongly that she should not have her breakfast served on a tray by Lucius' bedside. Sensing that Poppy would be very upset if she ignored this advice, Cho walked down the wide wooden staircase and entered the dining room. When she saw its occupant, she gave a small start, and understood at once why the elf had insisted that Cho should break her fast downstairs and not in her Master's room. Narcissa Malfoy sat at the table, elegantly coiffeured as always, reading a copy of _Witch Weekly _as she ate a slice of toast. She looked up as Cho walked up to the table, and inclined her blonde head slightly at the younger woman. "How is my husband today?" she asked.

Cho's mind was in a whirl at this query. She did not know what to say, for she wondered how long Narcissa had been back at the castle. Cho knew that if she herself had been away while Lucius lay unconscious, the first thing she would have done on returning was to rush to his side, and see if his condition had improved. Had Mrs Malfoy done the same thing, and seen Cho sleeping in her husband's arms? Knowing that her husband's ex mistress was sleeping under her roof was not the same as actually catching her in bed with him. Cho flushed with embarrassment, and tried to keep her voice even as she informed Narcissa that Lucius had woken the previous day, and had both spoken and eaten. She also told Narcissa about the gap in Lucius' memory regarding what had happened in the dungeon. The lack of surprise on Narcissa's face when she learned that her husband had regained consciousness confirmed Cho's suspicions, and she blushed even more deeply.

"Do have some breakfast, Miss Chang," said Narcissa, gesturing at the generous selection on the sideboard. "You mustn't forget to eat. I'm now going to take a look at Lucius for myself. I trust he is awake?" She gave Cho a look that was impossible to read. Cho nodded wordlessly, and forced herself to walk over to the sideboard so that she need not watch Mrs Malfoy leave the room. When she knew she was alone once more, her legs almost collapsed under her, and she sat down suddenly on the nearest dining chair.

Narcissa entered Lucius' room and looked at the bed, wondering what she would find. Her gaze was met by a steady look from Lucius' eyes, that although sunken, were their usual clear grey. She dismissed Poppy, and sat in the vacant chair at his side, taking one of the long-fingered hands that lay resting on the eiderdown. "Hello, Lucius," she said, with a great effort keeping her voice steady, "How do you feel?"

Her husband appeared to consider for a while before he answered. "Terrible. But it's preferable to the alternative. I understand I've been unconscious for two weeks, and you thought I might die. My head aches and my muscles hurt every time I move. My brain doesn't seem to be working properly, and I feel very weak. Every so often, a stabbing pain hits my whole body." The ghost of a wry smile passed across his lips, and Lucius regarded his wife gravely. "Don't look so worried, my dear," he whispered. "Rumours of my demise are greatly exaggerated." He squeezed her hand gently.

Narcissa bent her head, pretending to look for something in the pocket of her robes. She had so far managed to maintain her poise, but this uncharacteristic demonstration of feeling towards her was almost her undoing. Narcissa was so accustomed to the distant relationship she had with Lucius, lubricated by ironic comments on both sides, that she almost burst into tears at the realisation that he recognised how worried she had been. She pulled back her shoulders, and arranged her face into a concerned smile.

"Lucius, Miss Chang tells me you don't remember what attacked you. She did tell you that I found you unconscious in the dungeons?" Narcissa watched Lucius' face carefully. She wanted to see his reaction when she mentioned Cho's name. Was that a flicker in Lucius' eyes? But his voice was steady when he replied that he had been told that was the case.

"Lucius, please think hard," urged Narcissa. "Whatever it is, it's still down there. The house elves are terrified, and won't go down there, no matter what I threaten them with. Lucius, when I found you, you looked as if you were in agony. You know what a person looks like when we've cast the Crucio curse on them? Well, you had the same expression yourself, and now you're demonstrating all the symptoms. Try and remember what happened. Let's try talking through what you did that day. Do you remember why you went into the dungeons in the first place?"

Small lines of concentration appeared between Lucius' brows. He shook his head. "There's something trying to get into my mind, but every time I try to pin it down, it escapes me."

"Lucius, why did you come to the castle? We normally only come here for the regular social functions. I know you come here to hunt sometimes, but I thought the ghillie said the deer numbers were too low this year? Did you come here to meet Miss Chang?" Narcissa stared at Lucius intently.

Malfoy looked at his wife. "I arranged to meet Miss Chang here, yes," he said softly. "My dear, don't pretend to be surprised, you wouldn't have asked if you hadn't already guessed. You have young McGregor, I have Miss Chang." And all the others, Narcissa added silently to herself, Willing to wait in line to have as little of you as you're prepared to give; but she put aside this thought as she replied sharply, "Lucius, why did you end your affair with Miss Chang?"

The languid expression disappeared, and a look of astonishment appeared on Lucius' face. "What did you say?"

"You heard. I fetched Miss Chang to your bedside because you spoke her name constantly when you started to come round. At first, she refused to come because she said you had ended the relationship. She was very clear on the matter, and said that it was your choice not hers, and you told her two weeks ago. I persuaded her to come by telling her how ill you were, and that you had been asking for her. It's obvious that she cares for you. It's also obvious that you care for her too, as her name was the first word you said when you could speak again. Now, it can't be coincidence that there is something very dangerous in our dungeons, and this something attacked you about two weeks ago. Just before that happened, you told Miss Chang you no longer wanted her. You just admitted to me you came here to meet her.

"Lucius, what happened to make you do it? Did the thing in the dungeon attack her too, or try to? But why doesn't she remember it if so? She told me she hadn't been into the dungeons. But her assistant, Mr Forbes - he knows something about our dungeons, but he wouldn't tell me anything. The usual method of getting information didn't work with him, unfortunately."

Lucius replied, "Mr Forbes is very loyal to Cho. I would trust him with her life." He raised an eyebrow at his wife. "Really, Narcissa, I'm surprised at you! You always claim to be able to spot his type across a crowded room. What did you do to him, wear the blue dress? I must say, I always enjoy the view when you're in that gown." Lucius leered slightly.

Narcissa had the grace to blush, but would not be deterred from her main objective. "Lucius, think hard. What is in our dungeons? If it tried to attack Miss Chang, why didn't you tell anyone about it so it could be destroyed? Or, Lucius, are you up to something? Is that thing in the dungeon because you put it there?

"I have another question for you too. Why have you bought so much jade that there may not be enough gold in our vaults to pay for it? Lucius, by Merlin's staff tell me! What on earth have you been up to?"

Lucius Malfoy lay in the most comfortable position he could find, trying to remain as still as possible to avoid the pain caused by the slightest movement. His head felt as though it were filled with cotton wool. Every time he tried to think, he could not concentrate, and found his mind filled with images of Cho Chang in various stages of undress. His wife had been speaking to him, quietly but urgently, trying to get him to remember – what? He had spoken soothing words to her when he saw that she was genuinely concerned about him. He was surprised at the emotion she was displaying: his beautiful Ice Maiden, Queen of the Barbed Remark. Then she mentioned a single word: jade. The mists began to clear, and memories came flooding back.

Jade. He had bought the highest quality Chinese nephrite jade in such quantity that he did not know if his wealth was enough to pay for it. He had bought it for its magic properties. He had bought it for Voldemort.

Voldemort. The Dark Lord. He Who Must Not Be Named. This creature that no longer deserved to be called a man was in the Glen Moy Castle dungeons, his life preserved by a jade sepulchre. This creature had attacked Cho Chang. This creature had attacked his most senior Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, and almost succeeded in killing him.

Lucius looked up at his wife, at her cornflower blue eyes, shining too brightly. What would her reaction be when he told her that the Dark Lord still lived? He saw that she realised he had remembered something. He watched her lean forward, and admired the full breasts hovering above him, outlined perfectly by the tightly laced bodice of her gown. He put out a tentative hand, and cupped one of them, watching Narcissa's face carefully for her reaction. She did not draw back, or sigh in exasperation. He stroked her nipple through the fabric, and felt it harden under his finger. Lucius still watched his wife's face. He knew her so well, he could tell she was undecided: should she permit this intimacy to continue, as her body desired, or should she reprimand him, and insist that he concentrate on answering her urgent questions? He put out his other hand, and stretched it towards his wife. She was too far away for him to reach her face, but his fingers stroked the bare skin of her neck, and slid slowly downwards till they met the neckline of her dress. He traced along its edge until he reached the valley of her cleavage, and slipped his long fingers inside her dress, teasing her warm flesh and deliberately trying to trap them between her breasts. He felt her push her nipple further into his other hand, and she sighed a little.

"Get into bed with me, my dear," purred Lucius. "It's been a long time, hasn't it? Help take my mind off the pain. A little massage does wonders, you know."

Narcissa looked for one moment as if she were about to refuse him, but Lucius pinched her nipple through the dress, and she almost whimpered in response. She hesitated for an instant longer, then suddenly stood up, went over to the door, and closed it firmly. She then approached the bed, and stood over her husband, looking at him from eyes turned midnight blue with lust. Slowly, she unfastened the lacings of her bodice, shrugged elegantly, and allowed her gown to fall to her feet. Her marble white breasts stood proudly free, and Lucius saw her nipples were still tight from his teasing. She was wearing only her apricot silk French cami-knickers and a pair of sheer silken hose held up by apricot satin garters.

Slowly, deliberately, Narcissa removed her underwear, but kept on the hose. She walked around in a circle beside the bed, and Lucius could not take his eyes off her as she proudly displayed herself to him from all angles, so that he could admire her rounded behind, and see the dark gold curls leading to her secret places. She kicked off her shoes, and came to stand over him. Lucius put out a hand and stroked her furry mound, sliding an experimental finger between his wife's thighs. He felt a welcoming dampness, and she quivered in response to his touch. He threw back the bedclothes. "Help me out of these trousers," he said, sliding a hand around to squeeze the now cold skin of Narcissa's buttock. His wife obligingly slid the silk pyjama trousers from underneath her husband, giving him ample opportunity to caress her breasts and inhale the musky perfume she always wore. Once the jacket was also discarded, Narcissa slipped smoothly into bed beside him, sliding her silk-clad legs sensuously across his. She ran a hand slowly up his thigh, and smiled when she felt his warm, erect manhood. She drew her fingers along its length, and teased him gently. Lucius shivered in response, and whispered, "I think you may have to make most of the effort this time, my dear."

Narcissa then straddled Lucius, and guided him slowly into her. He felt the tightness of her welcoming warmth encompass him, and groaned as she moved, creating waves of pleasure in him. He watched her breasts bouncing slightly as she rode him, and relished the feel of her silken legs against his thighs. He concentrated his mind totally on the pleasure of the moment, as every movement she made built up the tension within him. He had forgotten how good she was, but she had not forgotten how to please him. Her movements increased in urgency, and Lucius supported her breasts in his hands, enjoying the sensation of their weight alternately lightening and becoming heavier as she pushed downwards on his shaft. He ran his fingers over both nipples, and gently pinched the tips as they hardened in response. Lucius felt the pressure build within him, and knew he was very near to climaxing, but he could tell from his wife's breathing, and the desperate way she moved when she came down on him, that she was not as near orgasm as he was. For a split second, he contemplated just allowing Narcissa to pleasure him. After all, he was ill, he deserved it. It was her duty as a good wife to look after her husband in all ways, and it was a very long time since she had looked after his needs in this way.

But then he remembered her concern for him, that she had brought his mistress into the castle because she believed it would help him recover, that he had brought a great danger into both their lives without consulting her. He remembered how it had been when they were first lovers, so well matched in all things. Such a little thing would bring his wife as much pleasure as himself. One little finger was all it took.

Lucius placed his middle finger precisely so that on the next downstroke, it teased Narcissa's clitoris. He kept the finger against her body, and caressed her most intimate part, gently at first, then with more urgent movements as her breathing and movements became more frantic. With the consummate skill of long experience, he timed his touch so that when he finally allowed himself to spill into her, she climaxed with a cry, pushing herself hard along his bucking manhood against the knowing finger, and clasping his other hand firmly against her breast. He felt her contract around him, increasing and sustaining his own pleasure. Lucius teased her gently with his fingernail, watching her shudders of ecstasy, feeling as he always did when he made love to a woman: a combination of pride that he was responsible for giving so much physical joy, and envy that women could sustain their peak for so long. Finally, Narcissa opened dark blue eyes, and allowed herself to fall forwards onto Lucius. He felt her breasts make contact with him first, and flatten against his chest as she relaxed. She tucked her head under his chin, and he stroked her blonde hair, freeing the tendrils from around her damp face, now covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Lucius felt himself drifting into unconsciousness, and the last thing he remembered before he fell asleep was his wife languidly playing with his nipple and rubbing her face in the golden hairs on his chest.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Female of the Species**

**Chapter 8**

Cho had finished her breakfast, and was at a loss as to what to do next. She wondered, should she offer to leave Glen Moy Castle now? Lucius had come round, his life was no longer in danger, she was no longer needed. Half of her wanted to rush away before she had to face a furious Lucius who would demand to know why she was here, when he had expressly told her he no longer wanted her; half of her wanted desperately to remain by his side until he was whole again, and to discover what had happened to him in the dungeons. Should she go to Lucius' room now? Would Narcissa want to remain undisturbed so that she could talk to her husband in confidence? But it was Narcissa herself who had invited Cho to the castle.

She waited in the dining room for a while, trying to read Narcissa's _Witch Weekly_, but she found it impossible to concentrate. After a while, a house elf came to clear the table. Just as the elf was about to magically transfer the dirty dishes to the scullery, Cho asked her where the Mistress was. "She's in Master's room," replied the elf, and continued with her task. Cho decided to go and ask Narcissa directly if her presence was still required. She would rather ask the Mistress of the house than the Master, and she hoped Lucius would not dare to be angry with her in his wife's presence. Cho climbed the wide staircase, and trod the now familiar route to Lucius' room. She was surprised to find the door closed, but she turned the handle quietly lest Lucius was asleep, and pushed it open gently.

Cho entered the bedroom, blinking a little at the shafts of sunlight shining through the window. It took her eyes a while to become accustomed to the brightness, but when she finally saw the bed, she took an involuntary step backwards. Narcissa Malfoy lay across the unclothed body of Lucius, the naked white peach of her perfect behind accentuated by a pair of gartered silk stockings, her head resting on his chest, his arms encircling her. They were both asleep, but from the tumbled bedclothes, their discarded clothing, and the position of their bodies, it was not difficult to deduce that they were enjoying a post-coital nap.

Her eyes filling with tears, Cho backed slowly and silently out of the room. She had always known Lucius Malfoy was married to a beautiful woman, but he had led her to believe that he and his wife now sought their carnal pleasures elsewhere. She wondered what other lies he had told her, and her mind returned to Lucius' business dealings with her grandfather Chang. She became even more convinced that she had been a mere plaything as a means to an end. Cho stumbled unseeing along the landing to her guest room, where she threw herself onto the pristine bed, and bitter tears soon decorated the pale counterpane with grey puddles of dissolving black mascara.

Narcissa awoke, and for a moment she wondered where she was, and why she felt so chilly and uncomfortable. Then, as she remembered what had happened, a small smile played around her lips, and the cold and discomfort were forgotten. Narcissa disengaged herself carefully from Lucius' arms and stood up. She regarded her sleeping husband for a while, reliving the feeling of Lucius inside her, of his hands on her body, knowing just where to touch her to drive her frantic with desperation. She realised her nipples were taut, and was unsure if it was the erotic memory or her lack of clothes that was the cause; but she knew that the dampness between her legs was evidence of her recent activity. Normally, Narcissa was fastidious, and would have cleaned herself immediately, but now she felt the remnants of Lucius' essence sliding down her inner thighs, and was reluctant to wipe away this proof of their union. It had been so, so long since the last time – but they were still so, so good together, and Lucius still desired her, he had initiated it all.

But he had called out Cho Chang's name when he was semi-conscious. While he was unable to pretend, he had not responded to his wife's voice in the same way as Cho's. Narcissa sighed deeply, and pulled the dishevelled bedclothes over Lucius.

Reluctantly she gathered up her discarded clothes, donned Lucius' dressing gown, and headed towards the bathroom along the landing. She walked along deep in thought, and it was not until she was nearly there that she realised that a noise was coming from the guest room. Narcissa stopped and listened, and recognised the sound of heartrending sobs. Cho was crying, but why?

Narcissa's mind went back to that morning, when she had found Cho Chang in bed asleep in Lucius' arms, and she knew: Cho had walked into Lucius' room while she and he were asleep following their moment of passion, and found them naked together. Narcissa felt a glow of satisfaction, and mentally chalked up a small victory to herself. At the same time, she felt a small twinge of sympathy for the younger woman, brought here reluctantly for Lucius' sake.

Narcissa continued on her way. She washed herself in the bathroom, and put on her gown, lacing the bodice tightly across her bosom. As she smoothed out the creases in the fabric over her breasts, she closed her eyes and imagined Lucius running his hands over her once more. Stop it, she told herself, there's work to do. She went to her bedroom and put on clean underwear, and arranged a favourite shawl around her shoulders and across her breast, tucking the ends into a leather belt around her waist. She then made her way back the way she had come. She must make Lucius tell her what was going on. She knew he had remembered something significant before he had made love to her, and sent the thought temporarily out of her head.

As Narcissa passed the guest room, she saw that the door now stood open, and Miss Chang was busy, determinedly packing the small bag she had brought with her. Narcissa halted and looked at Cho, who immediately stopped what she was doing, straightened up, and said, "Mrs Malfoy, I presume I am no longer needed here? Lucius is conscious again, he should recover well enough. I must go back to London. I do have a business to run." She sounded very matter-of-fact, but Narcissa thought she could discern a slight tremble in her voice.

"Miss Chang, I would ask you to stay just a short while longer, if your business can manage without you."

"Why? Lucius has you. He doesn't need me, as he once told me quite definitely." This time Cho's tone was that of a woman in pain.

Narcissa went into the guest room, and addressed Cho seriously. "Miss Chang, I still have to find out what is in the dungeons. I think Lucius has remembered, I just have to get him to tell me. Once I know, I will have to confront it, probably alone. The house elves are too scared to go down there, and Lucius is in no fit state to face his attacker again. It's obvious that whatever it is, it's very dangerous. It's therefore even possible that it might kill me. There are two consequences to that eventuality: someone else needs to know about the creature, and arrange to destroy it if I am unsuccessful. Also, Lucius will then be a free man. I know you care for him, although you try to hide it from me, and I know he cares for you. So perhaps it will be in your interest to remain here a while?"

Cho stared at Narcissa in disbelief. Lucius' wife had just effectively given Cho permission to take her place at Lucius' side in the event of her death. Cho had always been easily prone to tears, she remembered how awkward Harry Potter had been when she had cried about Cedric. She tried to stop them this time, but her eyes filled up, and she tasted salt as they overflowed down her cheeks. "I don't know what to say, Mrs Malfoy," she whispered, her throat constricting with the effort of trying not to cry, "You're very kind to me. I'm not sure that I could be so nice to you if Lucius was my husband."

"Believe me, Miss Chang, if Lucius ever becomes your husband, you will have to learn to share him, just as I do. He has never been, and never will be, a one-woman man. I've lost count of the number of women he's had over the years. There may even have been a few men as well. I hope you realise that while he was seeing you, he still had at least four other women he saw regularly." Narcissa knew that she imparted this information with a dual motive: if Cho Chang really wanted to continue a relationship with Lucius, she needed to know his true character for her own sake; but Narcissa knew that she herself was also enjoying revealing the truth about her husband, for Cho had probably assumed that he limited himself to one mistress at a time; whereas in reality, his cousin Lucinda was always ready to accommodate Lucius whenever any of his other paramours was unavailable. Sometimes, Narcissa thought Lucinda stayed in bed permanently just in case Lucius called.

Now she listened as Cho agreed to stay, at least until Narcissa had questioned Lucius once more. Satisfied, she left her, and continued towards her husband's bedroom. Meanwhile, Cho sat down suddenly on the bed, and thought about what Mrs Malfoy had said. She supposed in reality she had always known what she had just been told, but after having had it spelled out for her in that frank manner, she could no longer pretend that Lucius had been faithful to her in any way at all. She now knew he had lied both about Narcissa's feelings, and also when he implied that they rarely had sex anymore. As for the other women - well, Cho had never asked, so Lucius had said nothing. Cho remembered that first day Lucius had called unexpectedly, and not seemed at all troubled when she had told him the time was inconvenient. At the time, she had assumed he was being considerate. Now, she realised, he had probably visited another of his lovers: while one mistress was measuring his wife for a ball gown, he had been pleasuring a third woman. This, added together with Cho's doubts relating to Lucius' business with her grandfather, led her to rethink her interpretation of everything she had experienced with him. Lucius Malfoy was definitely not a good bet for a long term relationship. The sooner she left Glen Moy Castle the better.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Lucius Malfoy lay thinking, and trying to ignore his pain. He had woken as his wife closed the bedroom door. He remembered clearly what had just happened. He could hardly believe it: it had been months since he and Narcissa had made love. He was surprised by his own actions. His wife's breasts had been very distracting, but usually he had no problem ignoring her attractions. She did not look any more beautiful than usual today, and although she was wearing a fairly low cut gown, it was not as revealing as the blue dress. He smiled to himself at the thought of his wife trying to seduce Alan Forbes: he knew he would have more success there himself, he had seen the way Alan had first looked at him when he thought he was unobserved.

But why had he just seduced Narcissa? Lucius tried to be honest with himself. Two reasons, he decided: I was randy as hell, and she was there. But I was randy because I'd been dreaming about Cho Chang. And she started to ask me about the dungeons, and I remembered Voldemort. I didn't want to answer her questions just then, I have to plan how to tell her. It was a very good way to distract her temporarily. Aaah, Lucius, what have you done, you devious bastard? But Narcissa enjoyed it didn't she? So did you, if you're honest. It's a real turn on to watch her when she's on top, especially when her breasts bounce like that. You'd almost forgotten that mewing noise she makes when she comes, and how long her orgasms last, and how that always makes you last longer too. We're good together, we always were. I just hope you haven't given her any ideas. There's been too much water under the bridge, it's far too late for us to pretend we're still love's young dream.

What am I going to tell her? And Cho…? Is she really here? Did I dream that? She must go home! How can I persuade Narcissa to send her home? Would she do it if I pretended I want to be alone with her?

As he mused to himself, Lucius heard the bedroom door opening. He peered through his barely open eyelids, and saw his wife enter. She came forward, stood awhile regarding him, then stepped resolutely towards him and took her accustomed seat. Lucius was mildly amused to see how she was dressed. Unless she was feeling exceptionally cold, Narcissa almost always wore gowns that displayed her magnificent bosom to best advantage, with at least a little cleavage on view. Now she was wearing a shawl across her breast: a subtle signal that she required Lucius to concentrate on the events in the dungeons, and not be distracted by staring at her chest. Mentally, he sighed to himself: Narcissa when determined would brook no denial. Lucius opened his eyes and looked into his wife's bluebell gaze, noting that her face wore an unaccustomed soft expression, a smile hovering around her sensuous mouth. Oh, Lucius, what have you done? Do you want a wife who thinks you've rediscovered your old feelings for her? Well, use it man! Use it to get Cho out of the castle!

Lucius deliberately smiled back at his wife, knowing the effect this always had on women. His normal expression was stern arrogance, enhanced by the severity of his usual black garments. When he smiled at a woman, it was as if the sun shone from behind a thundercloud especially for her alone, and few females failed to respond, some against their better judgement. Lucius knew his own power, and that even after all these years, it would still work on Narcissa in her present mood. In reply, she took his long fingers in her own hand, and squeezed them.

"Lucius, you've remembered what happened, haven't you?" By Merlin's staff, she was determined! But Lucius could be equally determined, and maintained a blank expression. When he did reply, he ignored her question: "Narcissa, my dear, why is Cho Chang still here at Glen Moy Castle? You said you invited her here when I was still only partly conscious, but I'm not in a coma anymore. I'm sure her presence must be an irritation to you. I know I've never been a faithful husband, but I don't expect you to entertain my mistress. She told you herself I ended the relationship. It's all over between us. Haven't I just shown you who is the most important woman in my life? Send her home, for all our sakes."

Narcissa watched Lucius' face. He could tell she was suspicious. He knew his wife was no fool. How far could he go down this track? He would try once more. He stroked her hand gently. "I nearly died, my dear. The prospect of death concentrates the mind wonderfully. Look into your heart. You know I would never leave you. Remember how it used to be when we were young? I never loved anyone like I loved you. Send her away, and let's have more mornings like this morning."

Was it enough? Narcissa wanted to believe him, he could tell: her experience was fighting with her need for him. Lucius realised that he had always known what he had so long chosen to ignore: she still loved him. That was why she would fight like a tigress for him. That was why he could choose to exploit her this way. He wondered if he felt guilty for playing with her emotions, but decided it was far too late for such considerations. He had balanced Cho's mental torment against his wife's, and Cho had won: his wife was tough, she would survive. Cho was far more fragile, and still had her whole life ahead. Lucius could not be responsible for turning her into a woman who feared the natural consequences of love. But he had not been able to make himself tell Narcissa he still loved her. He wondered if she had noticed his careful use of grammar.

Narcissa's face changed. As Lucius watched, he saw the soft expression replaced by suspicion, then a for a brief moment, a deep hurt flickered across her eyes, to be replaced almost instantaneously by the ice blue gaze of the beautiful Ice Queen with whom he had now shared his life for so many years. He knew his gamble had failed: Narcissa Malfoy knew him far too well to believe his lies, she saw straight through him. Lucius sighed inwardly, but he could not bring himself to feel ashamed. According to his own scruples, he had been acting with an uncharacteristically selfless motive. He felt that his wife also recognised this fact, and it had cut her to the quick. He admired her self possession, the way she never, ever made a scene, the way she maintained her iron will.

Lucius took his wife's unresisting hand, lifted it to his mouth, and gently kissed her fingers. This time he meant it. It was the closest he would ever get to saying sorry.


	9. Chapter 9

**The Female of the Species**

**Chapter 9**

Cho finished packing her bag. She wanted to be ready to leave as soon as possible. She had reluctantly agreed to stay only until Narcissa Malfoy had questioned her husband. Cho was sure that whatever she discovered, it would not make her any more willing to stay at Glen Moy Castle.

Really, what did she owe the Malfoys? Lucius had used her, played with her emotions, made her fall in love with him against her own better judgement and all Alan's warnings. Cho had never expected Lucius to leave Narcissa, but she had believed him when he told her that they were now married in name only, that they both looked outside their marriage for their sexual pleasures. She had also foolishly assumed that Lucius took only one mistress at a time. She had been unable to hide the hurt and shock she felt when his wife informed her of the true state of affairs.

Then there was Narcissa Malfoy. Cho had recognised immediately she first met her that Mrs Malfoy was an extremely intelligent woman who knew all about her husband's extramarital activities. Cho had chosen to believe Lucius' version of events: that Narcissa did not care what he did. But now that Cho had seen Mrs Malfoy close to in a crisis, she realised that Lucius' wife cared so much that it hurt. Lucius was not a fool, he could not be unaware of this fact. One of the reasons he was such a good lover was that he read female emotions so well: he had always recognised Cho's mood, he had always known what she liked and disliked during their lovemaking: if he ever tried something she did not like, she had never needed to tell him to stop, he had felt her reaction instantaneously, and proceeded to stimulate her in a way he knew she enjoyed. Cho had never before felt so cherished as she lay in the arms of such a caring, observant man. It was therefore impossible that Lucius should not know how his wife felt. This meant that he had deliberately lied to Cho. Narcissa Malfoy loved him deeply, and he must care for her too if this morning's evidence was anything to go by. Lucius was far too selfish to make love to his wife merely to please her. He only ever did what he himself wanted to.

Cho sat awhile on the bed, thinking. Then, when Narcissa did not return, she went to look out of her window at the slopes of Ben Foy. She brought a chair over to the window, and sat staring out, not really seeing the scenery, but experiencing so many conflicting emotions as she thought over what had happened and what she now knew. Then a movement caught her eye, and she saw that Narcissa was walking across the greensward towards the loch. Cho was surprised, she had expected Narcissa to come straight back to her with Lucius' answers to her questions, but instead there she was strolling in the grounds. Cho watched her for a while, and realised that Narcissa had no specific object in mind, she was merely walking aimlessly. She had probably gone outside to think: whatever Lucius had told her required some consideration.

That meant that Lucius was alone. Cho stood up, having made a decision: she would go and see Lucius, and by his reaction alone she would know whether or not to stay.

Cho entered Lucius' room. She saw at once that he was writhing in agony, and her natural empathy made her feel deep sympathy for his pain. She hurried over to his bedside, and spoke his name. She saw him hesitate as he heard her. Lucius' lips were pulled back in a snarl, which may have been due to his pain, but when he opened his eyes, the black expression in them made her take an involuntary step backwards. He was actually glaring at her!

"What are **you** doing here?" he hissed in a voice of pure venom.

"I only came here because your wife asked me to," whispered Cho, shocked at his tone.

"Indeed. Well, **I** am asking you to leave. I believe I told you perfectly clearly that our relationship was at an end. I am not accustomed to being disobeyed. I suggest you go immediately. You need not wait for Narcissa to return. I'll tell her you've gone. There is nothing more irritating than a woman who doesn't recognise when she's no longer amusing."

Lucius closed his eyes again, abruptly signalling the end of the discussion.

Cho, her eyes filled with tears, did not see Lucius watch her leave through the slit in his eyelids, and could never have guessed how much he regretted what he had made himself do, and how bitterly he congratulated himself on his superb acting abilities.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Narcissa sat staring into space, her cloak wrapped closely about her against the chill of the damp air, her mind churning. She did not register where she was, her feet had taken her there almost of their own accord, but she sat in the summer house, scene of so many of Lucius' seductions and one or two of her own. Her unfocussed eyes looked through the glass, the view of the loch and mountains obscured by the condensation from her own breath.

Voldemort was alive.

Narcissa could hardly comprehend the magnitude of this revelation. She did not know how to react to the news. Had she been told immediately after the wizarding world believed he had been killed, she knew she would have rejoiced. But she had had almost two years to reconcile herself to his death, and during that time, many Death Eaters had been accepted back into respectable society. Some had claimed that they had been reluctant supporters of the Dark Lord. The Malfoys, even had they wished to avail themselves of this pretence, would never have been believed. However, Voldemort's chief supporters were now welcome in homes where previously they had been _persona non grata_: money and influence as ever oiled the wheels of social success. Narcissa had no great need to be universally loved, but she enjoyed flaunting her beauty and wealth in the faces of those who had once refused to receive her.

Voldemort was alive. But barely.

He was using the body of that pathetic person Peter Pettigrew, who even as a human resembled his rat animagus. He was weak and only just alive. His powers had faded. His will and desire for power were all he had left; that and his ability to control Wormtail enough to retain his hold on life, and to force his most faithful Death Eaters to obey him.

Voldemort was alive. He was frightened and therefore dangerous.

He was frightened that he would indeed die, that his survival had been in vain, that the attraction of the Dark Side was not enough to counteract the revulsion he knew he generated in all who saw him. Tom Riddle had been a wonderfully clever and handsome boy who had grown into an even more intelligent man. At first, Voldemort the man had been just as handsome, but the practice of Dark Magic and his attraction for the base and wicked had taken its toll on his appearance, and like the Edward Hyde of the wizarding world, his looks had become louche and his face lined and aged; and this was true even before Voldemort had lost his body and become nothing more than a parasite on Quirrell.

Now, Lucius could hardly bear to look upon his once strong and supremely evil Master. He had bought a king's ransom's worth of jade in order to preserve the life of this monstrosity, and he bitterly regretted it. He could not see an end to his entrapment, serving a Dark Lord hovering between this world and the next: a Dark Lord who would never be able to give Lucius the power he craved as a reward for his devotion.

Voldemort was alive. And he had tried to kill Lucius.

Narcissa's protective instinct came to the fore when she thought of this last fact. Her love for Lucius mingled with the jealous reaction she had immediately felt when she learned why Voldemort had used Wormtail's wand to cast the Cruciatus curse on him: Lucius had saved Cho Chang from the clutches of the Dark Lord, who had planned to use her for his own twisted pleasures, after luring her to the dungeon using legilimency. Voldemort thwarted was anger incarnate, and when Lucius had returned to the dungeon after rescuing Cho, he had walked immediately into a vicious attack from his Master.

Her mind now turned to Lucius' attempt to persuade her that he still loved her. On the contrary, he had said those weasel words, told those unforgivable lies, because he loved Cho Chang. He wanted Narcissa to send her away to protect her from Voldemort. The stabbing pain in her chest almost stopped her from breathing when she thought of how Lucius had tried to play with her feelings. If he had been honest with her, and asked her to send Cho away to keep her safe, it would not have been half so bad as this treatment. Narcissa knew Lucius could be cruel, but this was far more hurtful than any physical pain he had ever offered her when he was in a rage.

Knowing that she was unobserved, Narcissa allowed herself a rare moment to submit to her feelings. Tears ran down her face, and a low keening noise escaped from her throat. Why did she love this man so much? Why could she not have chosen someone who would feel the same way about her? But even as she thought this, she knew she would never have been satisfied with any fawning admirer. Lucius' very attraction was his elusiveness, and she knew that nobody could ever possess more of him than she did herself.

Narcissa dried her eyes, and began to plan. She knew what she had to do. The only problem was, what should she do about Cho Chang? On the one hand, Lucius wished to keep her safe, and she had also promised Alan Forbes that she would not expose Cho to danger. On the other hand, what would be the consequences if she were unsuccessful? As she had told Cho, she might indeed be killed. Someone needed to know what was happening at Glen Moy Castle just in case.

She made up her mind. She ran through the plan again in her head. She stood up and walked back to the castle, hardly noticing the fine drizzle that soaked her feet and hair.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Narcissa Malfoy rose early after a sleepless night spent tossing and turning in her bed. She had felt alternately hot and cold as her body reacted to the thoughts spinning round her head. In response, she had thrown off her bedclothes and lain naked, then as the sweat cooled on her body, and the chill of her room eventually registered (for Narcissa rarely burned a fire overnight except in the depths of winter), she had curled in a foetal position under the blankets trying to get warm.

She pulled on a comforting velvet dressing gown, and sat at the table before the window by the light of an oil lamp. She laid out a number of sheets of vellum, set out her crystal ink pot, and took her favourite swan's feather quill. Weighing each word carefully as she wrote, she prepared four letters, writing the recipients' names clearly in her flowing hand on the folded sheets, and imprinting the sealing wax with the Malfoy twisted serpent. Then she took a fifth longer sheet, and even more carefully wrote out her instructions, her blood almost freezing in her veins as she thought of why she was doing this. Her hand shook as she inscribed the final words on the outside of the scroll into which she formed it. She finished off the document by tying it firmly in place with a length of green ribbon. She finally looked up, and saw that it was now light, but it was a grey overcast day that suited her mood perfectly.

Leaving her handiwork on her desk, she went to see Lucius. At first she thought he was asleep, but as she approached his bed, she saw he was watching her. "You're very bright and early today, my dear," he observed softly. He looked at Narcissa as she lit the lamp on his bedside table. Lucius put out a hand to take his wife's as she sat beside him.

"What's wrong, Narcissa?" he asked her, his keen eyes noting her expression. She shook her head numbly, not daring to speak. She looked into his grey eyes, and stroked his face gently with her fingers. Now she was here, she wondered why she had come. She could not tell Lucius what she was going to do, and he knew she was planning something. But really she knew why she had come: she needed to take what might be one last look at her husband. She wanted to hug him, to bury her face in his hair, to have him hold her close; but the best she could do was to remember the passion of that morning two days ago, and be glad that she had that memory to hold within her heart. Narcissa suddenly bent over Lucius, and kissed his cheek. Then she stood, and walked out of the room without a backward glance, sending Poppy in to Lucius in her stead .

Narcissa wondered whether she should eat breakfast, and decided she could not face any food. Instead, she made her way to the owlery: in the castle, the owls lived in one of the high turrets. There she softly called for her favourite, the sooty owl Hibou. He glided down on silent black wings, and sat on her thick protective glove, gripping tightly with grey claws ending in black talons. He then stared knowledgeably at her from dusky eyes set in a heart shaped silvery face. Narcissa murmured her instructions to him as she made her way back down the spiral staircase, balancing Hibou carefully as she walked. She took him into her room, and showed him her papers. She selected one of the letters, and tied it to his leg, then placed him on a perch, and proceeded to dress.

She carefully put on the blue crushed velvet gown, lacing the front tightly under her breasts so that they were pushed upwards and outwards, her nipples only just covered by the fabric. However, on her feet she wore practical boots with low heels and good grips on the soles: she could not afford to risk losing her footing on the stairs or the uneven stone floor.

Narcissa then took her wand to her wardrobe, parted the numerous robes and gowns hanging there, and tapped the wooden back of the interior, saying, "Dissendium". A door to a secret compartment magically came into view, and slid open. Narcissa took out a slim decorated wooden box about a foot long that she had secreted there many years previously. She placed the box on her table, and lifted the lid. She looked for a long time at the contents: this item was Narcissa Malfoy's second big secret.


	10. Chapter 10

**The Female of the Species**

**Chapter 10**

Only a handful of people had ever known of this object's existence, and each was in turn sworn to secrecy. Narcissa had been given it by Poniard, a childless uncle on her mother's side of the family, but its true origin was lost in the mists of time. Her uncle had told her as much as he knew, that it had come from an ancestor many years ago. The exact year was unknown, but he had lived during the time of the European Renaissance. He had been a very powerful wizard working with a group of fellow wizards and philosophers, and he had been the Secret Keeper of the object on behalf of their Guild. His name was Jaumes Paradis, and he had lived in a place called Cité des Corbeaux, the City of Ravens, somewhere in the south of France, close to the Italian border: a place that no longer seemed to exist if one consulted modern maps.

The Guild had forged the object, but once it came into existence, they realised that it was far more powerful than ever they had guessed. Some of them wished to destroy it, but even had that been possible, they would have not been allowed to do so by others who wielded greater influence. Some wished to use it to wreak great destruction in order to gain untold power, but were prevented from doing so, because even in their lust and greed they recognised that the consequences of its use were unpredictable, and it may be their final undoing. In the end, Jaumes took the object to the highest turret of the Tour des Anges, the Tower of Angels, and there concealed it behind many magic spells. History was undecided as to his motive: he may have been altruistically preventing its use by others he considered less trustworthy, or he may have stolen it for himself. In any event, if the latter was the case, he never found a way to use the object for his own gain. When he finally died, grown mad by the making of so many impossible plans, and by constant fear of its discovery, he left its secrets to his son. Since then it had been passed down from Secret Keeper to Secret Keeper, generation after generation, and the stories that accompanied it grew with the telling. One legend spoke of its being the antidote to evil, but also warned that it would only generate further evil unless it was used from the purest of motives.

Poniard had had a choice of three nieces when he decided how to dispose of his worldly goods. He had been generous with all of them, but it was to Narcissa, the youngest, that he bequeathed his most valuable possession. This he had done following a secret meeting with her shortly before his death. He had explained that it would appear to Bellatrix that she was the favourite, as nobody must ever know what Narcissa really inherited. He did not trust Bellatrix: she was self-centred and too fond of cruelty and evil; she could not be trusted either to keep the object secret or to refrain from using it for her own selfish ends. He would not leave it to Andromeda, for although in herself she was a wise and reliable witch, she had committed the unforgivable sin of marrying a Mudblood, and had been disowned by the Blacks and their kin by marriage: therefore she could not be trusted with an object designed by and for pure blood wizards. Narcissa had been instructed that she in her turn must be very careful to whom she left it following her own demise.

Narcissa now lifted the object, encased in a dragon skin sheath backed with a piece of unicorn horn, and held firmly in place by buckles on dragon skin straps. She released the buckles with a simple spell, and picked up the object by its handle of dark green jadeite. The handle was decorated with golden wires formed into the shape of Veela, in human form on one side of the handle, and winged supernatural form on the other. She stared at it for a long time.

The Subtle Knife. Its name sounds so innocent, she thought, as she gazed upon the blade, which did not reflect as other blades do, but seemed to draw the observer into its cloudy depths of swirling shadowy hues. The edges however gleamed, drawing Narcissa's eyes unerringly to them: both so keen they were almost invisible, each a metallic infinitesimal line. One was clear, bright steel; the other silver, untarnished in spite of long disuse. Narcissa remembered the words Poniard had spoken to her: "Silver for Slytherin. It is not a coincidence that finally the Subtle Knife rests in the hands of the Blacks, whose witches and wizards have been in Slytherin since the founding of Hogwarts."

"Have you ever used the Knife, Uncle?" a younger, wide-eyed Narcissa had asked Poniard. He had shaken his head in reply.

"Narcissa, nobody has used the Knife for years untold. Each Secret Keeper is instructed in turn that it must not be used for a fickle or unworthy reason; and each is also told that in their heart they will know when it should be used. The Subtle Knife was forged by necromancers who thought they were merely making a weapon to supersede all others: but the Knife has a will of its own, and if it is used meanly or wickedly, the deeper magic within it will destroy the user. Eventually, philosophers came to believe that it exists for a great purpose, and that when the occasion for which it was forged arises, the Secret Keeper will be so certain, that they will use the Knife positively and without fear. What will then become of the Secret Keeper and the Knife has not been revealed to us. It may be that you, like me, are yet another who will be no more than a Secret Keeper awaiting the call, destined merely to hold this object safe for the future.

"This only we know: the steel blade can cut through any material in any world, and the silver blade can cut into the next world. We are told that if we ever use the silver blade, we must close the window it makes, lest unforeseen consequences result, and this world disappears forever. But it is for the Secret Keeper of the Knife to discover how to close the window, for nobody has yet dared to try its edge."

Narcissa handled the Knife with great care, ensuring that her hands avoided the blade. She had spent long hours working out how she could carry it in concealment, but also easily accessible, without coming to harm herself. She replaced the Subtle Knife in its sheath, and laid her rowan wand beside it, the unicorn horn touching the wood. She wrapped the straps tightly around the wand, and with another spell she secured the buckles once more, so that when she lifted the wand, the Knife stayed firmly attached. The Knife could cut through anything, therefore the tough sheath alone was not sufficient protection from the blade: this was why the buckles were needed, else its own weight would force the blade through the dragon skin. Narcissa then put her wand into its special long pocket stitched into the side seam of the full skirt of her dress.

Now she could use the Knife at will, for as the wand was touching the sheath, she could cast a spell releasing the buckles without using her hands. Narcissa had also taught herself to do magic by the power of thought alone, so she had no need to speak a spell aloud for it to work, she merely had to direct her thoughts to the tip of her wand. So long as her own wand was somewhere about her person, the spell would work.

She put on her cloak, arranging it so that it would conceal her hands should she reach into her wand pocket. Narcissa then stood a moment, her eyes closed, willing herself to carry out the most dangerous mission of her life. She had never before felt so alone. Cho Chang had gone back home two days ago, not waiting for Narcissa to return from the summer house. Lucius still lay in bed, his waking periods more frequent, and his keen brain working once more, but suffering the unpredictable agonies of the after effects of the Crucio curse. He had not yet tried to get up, a great lethargy seemed to have taken hold of him.

Narcissa had used the previous day to tie up her affairs. She had been to Malfoy Manor, hoping to see her son one last time as she tidied her parchments, but Draco was not there. Narcissa had felt a strange mixture of relief and sadness: she desperately wanted to see her only child, whom she loved with all her heart even though sometimes she did not like him very much. But her mother's love fought in her breast with the knowledge that she could not have explained to him why she wanted to crush him to her, and he would most likely have brushed her aside impatiently with careless, hurtful words.

Narcissa opened her eyes, stood proud and tall, and stepped forwards, calling to Hibou to follow her. She walked to the head of the dungeon stairs, and stood awhile listening carefully as she took a blazing torch from its sconce, Hibou watching her with intelligent eyes from his perch on a set of stag's antlers. Narcissa could hear no sounds emanating from below. She took a deep breath, and began to descend slowly, one step at a time, the torch casting strange shadows ahead of her so that she had to tell herself that it was merely the reflection from the uneven stone walls. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she held the torch even higher, and swept it in an arc before her, but she saw no sign of life, except Hibou, who had floated behind her silently, perching on an empty sconce.

She walked forwards very slowly, passing the place where she had discovered Lucius, the floor still rust-stained with his blood. She passed a number of openings, and looked fearfully into each room as she passed, but saw nothing save a brown rat that scurried away swiftly from the light. Then Narcissa stopped, convinced she had heard a sound. She listened carefully, not breathing, her heart thumping loudly in her ears. Yes, there was a noise! It came from the next opening ahead on the left. She could not identify the sound, but it was definitely something. Narcissa stepped forwards more slowly, and as she crossed the threshold of the room, she paused, holding the torch as high and as far forwards as she could reach, wondering what was causing the terrible smell that assaulted her nostrils. She immediately saw two things: one made her gasp, and the other made her want to retch.

Lucius had told Narcissa about the jade sepulchre, but the reality far exceeded what she had been able to imagine: in the torchlight the flawless pale green nephrite gleamed softly, and Narcissa finally understood the price Lucius had pledged to pay to preserve the life of the Dark Lord. Sun Chang must have been delighted with the business transaction, and it was no wonder Chang Jade Holdings had pressed for immediate payment, for there was more wealth in this dank dungeon than Narcissa had ever seen together in one place. It was this sight that caused her to gasp in both awe and horror.

But her eyes were drawn away from the sepulchre by another far more gruesome sight, and the source of the putrid smell: on the ground between her and the tomb lay the remains of Twinkle, the house elf Narcissa had missed a week ago. She had since been so busy with other matters that Twinkle's whereabouts had slipped from her mind, and she had forgotten to ask the other elves where she was. Now, at last she knew. What was left of Twinkle's body was naked, all four limbs were missing, and the torso was ripped open from throat to belly, the purple viscera spilling out into a pool of coagulated blood. Narcissa then realised that there were bones scattered near the entrance to the sepulchre, and she saw that these were what remained of Twinkle's arms and legs. As she stared open-mouthed at the bones, she could see that there were teeth marks on the small amount of flesh still attached to them: this was what Voldemort had been living on in the absence of provisions from Lucius. Narcissa looked at Twinkle's head, and realised with a sickening lurch of her stomach that her eyes were missing, and the top of her head was cracked open like an egg. A hollow where her brain should have been told Narcissa that the Dark Lord had fed on more than muscle. She guessed that the torso had been torn open so that he could also feed on the elf's liver and heart.

As Narcissa tried to take in all she had seen, her gaze swept the room, and she realised that what she had initially taken for a damp patch under her feet was really more blood. She looked about her for the source of the noise she had heard, her torch reflecting from Hibou's dark eyes blinking at her from the top of the sepulchre. She thought she saw a movement at the entrance to the tomb, and she stepped forward far more confidently than she felt: yes, there was something there.

"Something" described the creature more accurately than "someone", thought Narcissa, as at last she laid eyes on Voldemort/Wormtail. She saw a ravaged face, barely recognisable as the Dark Lord for whom she had worked so assiduously for so long, above a thin, bent, wasted body with its back to her. It was worse than she had been able to imagine: he was little better than an animal, clinging desperately to life. As Narcissa stepped towards the dreadful being, the torchlight showed her that Voldemort's face was caked with dried blood. She saw him smile, if such a vicious, lecherous leer could be described as a smile, and his teeth also bore evidence that he had feasted on Twinkle, with pieces of flesh and sinew lodged between the incisors.

Narcissa forced herself to smile at Voldemort, at the same time throwing her cloak back over her shoulders. She held the torch aloft so that she knew it illuminated her breasts, the shadow of her cleavage contrasting sharply with the white skin. It was cold here in the dungeon, and Narcissa felt her nipples contracting in response. She pulled back her shoulders and said in as seductive a tone as she could, "Hello Tom. It's been a long time since we met. Far too long, in fact."

**Note**:

_**The Subtle Knife** is borrowed from Philip Pullman's _His Dark Materials_ trilogy, where it first appears in the second volume called _The Subtle Knife_. Its properties and origins have been partly copied, and partly altered to suit my story, the wizarding world, and my invented history of Narcissa Black's maternal family. Pullman's knife came from an Italy in a parallel universe, whereas mine is from Provence in the south of France. Many of the names are merely translations from Pullman's Italian into French._


	11. Chapter 11

**The Female of the Species**

**Chapter 11**

_The female of the species is deadlier than the male. - Rudyard Kipling_

Voldemort looked vaguely surprised at this greeting, but his eyes were now fastened greedily on Narcissa's breasts, at the barely hidden nipples pointing at him through the fabric. He started to dribble. Narcissa had to concentrate very hard to force herself to smile at him and walk towards him, when all her instincts for self preservation screamed at her to run away, and her stomach was heaving. She stopped just before Voldemort, within arms' reach had Wormtail's body been facing the right way, and smiled softly at the hideous face, whispering, "Tom, do you remember how it was?" She made herself remember many years ago, and the expression she wore was a little less false.

Tom Marvolo Riddle had been a very beautiful young man: Narcissa had seen photos of him in his youth. By the time she met him at 20 years old, he was a very distinguished 48. He had aged well, and as is so often the case with handsome men, the greying hair and lines of experience on his face, coupled with the confidence of middle age and an air of brooding evil, only added to his attraction. Tom, now calling himself Lord Voldemort, had completely overwhelmed the youthful and impressionable Narcissa Black. He had seduced her with little effort, and had been an inventive and exciting lover. It had not really been an affair, just a case of the two of them enjoying each other whenever the opportunity arose. But then Narcissa had heard rumours of Voldemort's developing violent and abusive sexual tastes, and had gently extricated herself from his list of lovers, using her forthcoming marriage to Lucius as an excuse. Since then, until he lost his corporeal form, she had still had a special relationship with the Dark Lord. She had flirted outrageously with him whenever they met, and he made it clear that she would always be welcome in his bed. Narcissa Malfoy had been the only person whom he allowed the liberty of still affectionately calling him "Tom", even as he became more evil, and his appearance altered with his increasing fascination with the Dark Arts, in the manner of the portrait of that other dark wizard, Dorian Gray.

"Do you still think I'm beautiful, Tom?" purred Narcissa. She placed her torch in a sconce on the wall, and stepped forwards again. She could see that Voldemort was almost mesmerised by the sight of her. She reached out and stroked the sparse hair that was not his but Wormtail's, deliberately not flinching at its greasy texture. She exerted a gentle pressure on his head with her left hand, forcing his unresisting face down on to her milky white breasts, while her right hand loosened the lacing of her bodice. She pulled down the neckline of her dress, exposing her erect nipples, and groaned in mock enjoyment as the Dark Lord took one in his filthy bloodstained mouth, and began to suckle.

Narcissa allowed Voldemort to lick and drool over her nipples for a while, ensuring that he was fully occupied, his spittle running down her breasts. All the while she made small sounds of faux pleasure, while in reality her mind was as sharp as a razor, waiting for the right moment when his mind should be completely concentrated on satisfying his own lust. She also watched Wormtail's face, for she needed his eyes to be closed in ecstasy. The hands of the dual being began to stroke Wormtail's groin. Good, thought Narcissa. She waited a while longer, readying herself. Both Voldemort's and Wormtail's breathing became more ragged, and the hand worked faster on their now exposed small but erect manhood.

Narcissa projected her mind along the rowan wood wand in her pocket, at the same time slipping her right hand under her cloak. The dragon skin straps freed themselves from their buckles, and Narcissa took hold of the Knife handle, sliding it gently from its sheath and from her pocket, not noticing the rent it cut in her dress from the gentlest of touches. She knew by the feel of the handle which way round she held the Knife, for the golden wire Veela stood proud of the jadeite, providing the Secret Keeper with extra grip. She turned the Knife so that the steel blade faced away from her, and using her knowledge of anatomy from her days as a mediwitch, Narcissa Malfoy drove the Subtle Knife into the back of Peter Pettigrew, angling it accurately so that the tip of the blade sliced into his heart. She was surprised at how easy it was: the Knife cut through Wormtail's unresisting flesh as if it were butter. Blood poured from the wound as she withdrew the Knife, staining her blue dress scarlet.

The expression on Voldemort's face changed in the blink of an eye. One moment, he was sucking greedily on Narcissa Malfoy's nipple and simultaneously feeling a growing pressure in Wormtail's groin, his eyes closed in rapture. The next moment he looked completely shocked, as the Subtle Knife slid so gently and almost lovingly into the heart of his host, and he gasped as he felt Wormtail's life slipping away. Then his face took on an evil, threatening expression, and he glared at the witch who had so easily fooled him. "Narcissa Malfoy! So beautiful, so deadly. I never took you for a traitor! You'll regret this!"

But even as he said these words, both Narcissa and the Dark Lord knew it was an empty threat. Blood pumped from Wormtail's body at an alarming rate, for the Subtle Knife could wound as no other weapon, and the wounds would not heal.

Narcissa regarded Voldemort for a moment, and then said softly, "Tom, this is the way it has to be. Your time is over. You should have died when the aurors thought they had killed you.

"Tom, I have to make sure you really die this time. You're far too dangerous for me to let you live. And you tried to kill Lucius. I will never, ever forgive you for that.

"This is the end for you. And I hope your last moments are as unbearable as you intended for Lucius. Although given your perversions, perhaps you will have the last laugh on me, and die in exquisite agony."

As she said this, Narcissa took the Knife again, and slid the steel blade through the top of the creature's head, sliding it against the skull so that she sliced Voldemort's face away from the back of Pettigrew's head. She threw it to the floor, and with her wand she set the flesh and skin alight. It burst into green flames, and in them Narcissa saw an image of a man burning, his face screaming silently in agony as he blackened and shrivelled. At first, the face was that of the Voldemort she had just confronted, but as the flame burned brighter, the colour gradually became more orange, and the man seemed to grow younger and less ravaged. When the flame finally extinguished itself, the last image was of Tom Riddle the young man, dressed in his Hogwarts robes, with his Head Boy badge worn proudly on his breast.

Narcissa felt as if a great oppression had lifted from her, and knew in her heart that Voldemort was finally dead. She heaved a great sigh of relief.

However, she had momentarily forgotten Peter Pettigrew. He was dying in terrible pain, bleeding profusely from his back, and screaming in pathetic anguish at the bloody, gaping wound inflicted on his head. As he sank to his knees, his gasps of distress bearing an unnerving similarity to the gasps that had marked his former state of bliss, he turned his baleful gaze on the witch who was the cause of his torture. With his last remaining strength, he reached to grab the Knife, still held firmly in Narcissa's right hand. Wormtail cut his remaining human hand on the blade, and squealed like a stuck pig. But his efforts were enough to twist the Knife in Narcissa's hand so that the steel made contact with her fingers. She felt a slight stinging, and at first did not realise what that meant. She stepped back from Pettigrew, and watched him die in writhing agony. The old Narcissa would have rejoiced to see an adversary meet his end this way, but this Narcissa numbly watched every twitch and scream, until he lay lifeless at her feet in a pool of blood.

Finally, Narcissa looked at her right hand to see why it hurt so much. She registered the fact that two fingers were missing from the hand. She realised that the pool of blood was not only Pettigrew's: some of it was her own. This was the last thing she thought before she slid to the floor, unconscious, her life force bleeding away from those two tiny wounds made by the Subtle Knife. She sank into a scarlet pool that did not congeal.

Hibou blinked twice, and like a wraith he sailed away, obeying his Mistress's last order.


	12. Chapter 12

**The Female of the Species**

**Chapter 12**

Alan was sitting at the shop counter, flicking through the pages of _The Daily Prophet_ as he waited for his next appointment to arrive. Cho was in the workroom sewing. Alan turned to the next page, and his eyes widened at what he saw. He took the newspaper with him, and opened the door at the back of the shop. Cho looked up, and Alan was pleased to see that she smiled at him, even though it did not quite reach her eyes. He wondered what exactly had taken place at Glen Moy Castle. Cho had told him very little, and had been very quiet and almost pensive since she returned. She still looks very drawn, he thought. Alan waved the paper in the air.

"There's some very interesting news in here, my love. Prepare yourself for a shock!"

"What is it?" asked Cho, but she did not sound as if she really cared, and she carried on with her sewing.

"Cho, you want to know this news, believe me." He held out the paper, but Cho did not take her eyes off her needle and thread. "Read it to me then," she said.

Alan obeyed Cho's instruction. He had not said more than a few words before Cho put down the blouse she was making, and stared wide eyed at Alan. "Dead?" she said. "Dead – but how?"

Alan scanned the page, then shook his head. "It doesn't say how she died. It just says 'unexpectedly'. The funeral is on Friday at Malfoy Manor. She's to be interred in the Malfoy family vault." He examined Cho's face carefully. "How do you feel about it?" he asked gently.

"I'm sorry she's dead of course. She wasn't my favourite person, but I didn't wish her any ill. Oh, Alan, last time I saw her, she talked about what might happen after she died! I think I know what happened to her. You remember she told us both there was something dangerous in the dungeons at Glen Moy Castle, and it attacked Lucius? Mrs Malfoy talked to me about having to investigate herself, because the house elves were too scared to go into the dungeons. She knew it might kill her, and it did." Cho's eyes filled up with tears at the memory of her last conversation with Lucius' wife. "I didn't tell you what she said to me. She asked me to stay at the castle while she went to look. She even thought Lucius might marry me if she were dead."

Alan walked over to Cho, sat beside her, and put his arms around her, so that her tears soaked into the shoulder of his jacket. Stroking her back with one hand, he asked her softly, "Would you like to marry him?" At this question, her sobs increased in volume, and she gave a bitter laugh.

"He would never ask me. He told me to leave, remember? Once his memory came back, he couldn't get rid of me fast enough. His eyes were full of hate. You were right, he was just using me to buy jade from Grandad! And – and – another thing: Mrs Malfoy told me he was seeing other women at the same time as me – women plural, not just one woman! She said he'd never been faithful to her. If I married him, it would be just the same. I'd have to share him just like Narcissa did. I couldn't bear it, Alan. I found out I was already sharing him when I thought he was just cheating on a wife who didn't care about him. He lied about that too. She loved him, I could tell. He told me they never slept together anymore, but I accidentally caught them in bed together that last morning at the castle. It was obvious they'd just had sex, she was lying asleep on top of him, they were both completely naked.

"He's such a selfish bastard! He took what he wanted from me, and then he dumped me, but not before he made me fall in love with him. I still love him so much, it hurts! If he came back to me, I couldn't say no to him, he makes me want him so much. I dream about him all the time. But I could never, ever trust him again. I hate what he's done to me! That's the effect that damned Lucius Malfoy has on women."

Alan hugged Cho to him, kissing the top of her head, and listened to her anguished sobs, waiting for her to calm down. Then he helped her tidy her streaky face so that she could maintain her professional image in public.

When Cho had somewhat recovered her composure, she said, "I'd like to send a bouquet. I'll send it from the business, then nobody will think it's odd. I'll just nip out to Flaubert's Flowers, I don't have another appointment for an hour." So saying, Cho donned a cloak, and stepped out into Diagon Alley.

In Flaubert's Flowers, Cho spoke to Madam Flaubert, selecting her blooms. She chose her colours carefully, with the same skill she used when designing a dress for a client: white arum lilies and black roses sparsely interspersed with cornflowers, the whole surrounded by delicate gypsophila and green ferns. Cho felt this complemented Narcissa Malfoy perfectly: white lilies for the Ice Queen, with blue for her piercing eyes, and green for Slytherin and the Malfoys; black for the Blacks, with the heady rose perfume for Narcissa's essential femininity; and the tracery of gypsophila representing that underlying fragility Cho had glimpsed at Glen Moy Castle.

Cho had just finished dictating her message to Madam Flaubert, who wrote it in copperplate handwriting on a piece of stiff black-edged vellum. She turned to leave, when a door leading to an inner room opened, and Lucius Malfoy stepped through, closely followed by Madam Flaubert's older sister, Madam Fleur. "The flowers will be sent to Malfoy Manor first thing on Friday, Mr Malfoy," said Madam Fleur, "And may we say once more how sorry we are for your loss."

But Lucius had stopped listening. His gaze fell on Cho Chang. "Hello, Cho," he said, and waited for her reaction.

"Good morning, Mr Malfoy," replied Cho stiffly. "Please allow me to extend my commiserations to you and Draco on the death of your wife. It must have been a terrible shock for you both." She looked at Lucius, searching his face to see if he had completely recovered, and to see how Narcissa's death had affected him. He looked back at her steadily, and she saw that the attack had left its mark: he was not standing as tall as previously, he leaned almost imperceptibly on the snake-headed cane he carried. His face looked careworn, the eyes hooded. Whether this was due to his illness or his feelings for his wife, it was impossible to tell, but he looked older than previously. Lucius was wearing his usual black cloak, but it was thrown back over his shoulders, and Cho saw he wore a black arm band on his left arm.

"Thank you, Miss Chang," replied Lucius neutrally. Then, "May I ask, are you returning to Cho's Chic now? Would you allow me to escort you there?" He offered Cho his arm. Cho could not reasonably refuse such a chivalrous gesture in front of the Flaubert sisters, as she had no wish to be a source of gossip for Diagon Alley. Therefore, she took the proffered arm, and they left the florist together.

It was not far along Diagon Alley to Cho's Chic. At first, they walked in silence, Cho thinking to herself that this was the first time she and Lucius had ever been seen alone in public together. Then Cho said, desperate to know, "How did Narcissa die, Lucius?" She wondered if he would tell her, if he would be angry that she had asked.

Lucius sighed deeply. "I can't tell you, Cho. But she was the bravest woman I've ever known. I don't think I realised just how loyal she was, and how she would do anything for her family, for me and for Draco. I owe her so much, I can never repay her. Now all I can do for her is to honour her name, and perhaps treat her better in death than I did in life."

"She loved you, Lucius," said Cho quietly. "You told me she didn't care. But she did, I could tell."

"I know," he replied hoarsely. "I pretended to myself that she didn't care what I did. I refused to see what was staring me in the face. She loved me so much, but she let me do what I wanted, and never complained. I didn't deserve her love, I ignored her so often." Lucius' voice had become lower as he spoke. Cho glanced over at him. His face wore a haunted expression, as if he had lost an essential part of himself.

"Did you love her, Lucius?" She had to ask.

Lucius turned to Cho. "I'm not sure I'm capable of love, my dear, now that I finally realise what it means. Love is selfless. I know perfectly well that I'm far too selfish to love anyone the way she loved me. When we first married, I thought I loved her. I certainly desired her. But then I got bored with her."

Cho nodded. "Like you got bored with me."

Lucius did not reply to this remark. Instead, as they stood before the door to Cho's Chic, he took his leave of her, saying that he had further matters to deal with in connection with his wife's funeral. Cho stood awhile on the doorstep watching his retreating back, then turned and went into the shop.

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Sun Chang leaned back in his seat, and regarded Lucius Malfoy thoughtfully. Lucius did not notice his expression, so relieved was he to have concluded his business with the head of the Chang jade empire. He had successfully negotiated a price for the sale back to Chang Jade Holdings of all the jade he had so recently purchased. Lucius had considered the option of selling privately, but had decided that it would be an unwise move. The introduction of such a large quantity of the highest quality nephrite jade on to the market would have affected the world price, and Sun Chang would have been extremely unhappy. Lucius knew from Narcissa's experience what happened when the Changs were unhappy, so he had decided to approach the old Mandarin once more. He did not tell Sun Chang, who had never asked why he had bought the jade in the first place, why he needed to sell just as quickly. Sun Chang did not enquire, he merely offered Lucius a much lower figure than he had paid for it. This Lucius had expected, and he tried his best to increase the offer, but with no success, for now he had no bargaining power: Narcissa had paid Chang Jade Holdings most of what was owed, including emptying Lucius' vault when he had told her where he had hidden the key, but there was still a sum outstanding. Lucius therefore shook on a deal which meant he would once more be a very rich wizard, but which also meant that his loyalty to the Dark Lord had cost him very dear indeed financially.

Lucius was preparing to take his leave, when Sun Chang said to him, "Lucius, before you go, there is something I wish to ask you. Please sit down again." Lucius sat, a small frown between his grey eyes.

"I would like to know, what are your intentions towards my granddaughter?"

So he did know! Lucius had thought that the old man had seen the frisson between himself and Cho when they were together: now he had had his suspicions confirmed. He thought for a while before replying: "Cho and I are no longer seeing each other. Our relationship ended some weeks before my wife's death."

Sun Chang raised his eyebrows a little. "This is a very strange answer. I know that you used Cho as a messenger to pay my son, and to ask for more time to pay the rest. Your wife was still alive then. She died only a few days later.

"I know your reputation as a womaniser, and I have seen the way you treat women. I know they come to you of their own free will, even knowing that you will soon tire of them. So it was with Cho. I warned her about you, but she wanted to be with you, so I permitted it to continue. You do not need to lie to me about her. She is a woman now, she can choose her own lovers, even if I do not approve.

"But the matter has taken on a new perspective in the current circumstances, do you not think? So I ask you once again, what are your intentions towards Cho?"

Lucius looked perplexed. "Do you mean, because my wife is now dead?" he asked. "I am still in mourning for her. I believe it would look very ill if I were to remarry so soon. Also, as you so eloquently put it, I am a womaniser. Even should I wish to marry, why should it be Cho that I choose?"

Sun Chang looked hard at Lucius. For a while, he said nothing, as if weighing his words. Finally, he said, "Why indeed? I am sorry that I raised the matter." He stood up in clear dismissal. Lucius stood also, and Chang escorted him to the door of his office and bade him farewell.

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Alan waited until the last customer of the day had left the building, and firmly closed and locked the door of Cho's Chic. He turned to Cho, and said, "Cho I need to speak to you. Come upstairs, and I'll make you some tea." Cho looked surprised, but did not argue.

Relaxing in Cho's sitting room, sharing a freshly made pot of camomile tisane, the two companions sat awhile in silence. Cho kicked off her shoes, and curled her legs under her. She closed her eyes, and rested her head against the back of the sofa.

Alan leaned forwards, and said gently to her, "Cho, when were you planning on telling me?"

"Telling you what?" asked Cho guardedly, opening her eyes. Alan shook his head at her.

"Cho, this is me. I notice things remember? I know. I've been watching you for the past couple of weeks. Every morning you look as green as can be, and you can't hold any food down until lunchtime. Let me guess: you've been throwing up every day before I arrive, haven't you?"

Cho looked at Alan from miserable dark eyes, and nodded her agreement.

"Say it, my love, or I'll say it for you."

"Okay, okay. I'm pregnant. Happy now?"

"What I think isn't important. What matters is, how do you feel about it? I presume it's Lucius's? I take it he doesn't know. Have you told your family?"

"Questions, questions!" Cho shook her head irritably. "How do I feel? I feel bloody stupid. I always take precautions, I'm always so careful. How could this happen to me? But I know how it happened. One mistake, and I was caught."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, no, no! Oh – yes, I do need to talk to someone. And you're the best person I can think of. It would be a relief to tell someone really, I've been bottling it up ever since I found out. No, I haven't told any of my family."

"Or Lucius?"

"No, not him. Oh, Alan, while we were together I was so careful. I took my cuscuta every morning without fail. I never forgot. I made sure to take some with me when I went with him to Scotland too. But then when Lucius finished with me, I stopped taking it. I felt so bad, I couldn't eat, and there was no point if I had no man in my life. Then Mrs Malfoy came to the shop, and I went with her to Scotland. I packed in such a hurry, it never occurred to me to pack some cuscuta too. Even if I'd thought about it, she would be there all the time anyway. But she went away to France for two nights. I didn't tell you that, did I?"

Alan shook his head. "No, my sweet, you haven't told me anything at all about that last visit to Scotland, except that you found the Malfoys in bed together. So it happened while she was away, did it?"

Cho nodded. "Yes. Lucius was still unconscious, and I was so tired, I decided to sleep beside him so I would be there if he came to. Well, he woke up, and – well you can guess the rest."

"He shagged you. Must have been desperate after so long out of action."

Cho laughed in spite of herself. "He was rather eager. He was very weak though."

"So you helped him out, shall we say? 'Oh, it's okay, Mr Malfoy, you just lie back and think of Scotland'?"

Cho was blushing furiously by now. She laughed again in an embarrassed way, and refused to say more.

"Okay, so why haven't you told him?"

"Because I don't know what I want to do about it. I have to decide before I tell him. If I tell him."

"What if he wanted to marry you, and give the baby the name Malfoy?"

Cho shook her head. "We already had that conversation, Alan. What would be the point of marrying Lucius? He'd always be off shagging other women. I would never be enough for him. Anyway, he dumped me, remember? Then when he remembered he'd dumped me, he threw me out."

"Cho, my love, you're going to have this baby. I know you are. You would never do anything else, be honest."

Cho smiled weakly. "You know me so well, Alan. Oh, in some ways I wish the baby were yours. You'd make a great dad."

"I'll be its godfather if you like," Alan said gently. "I'll always be there for you, you know that. Whatever you decide."

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**Note**:

_The plant referred to here as **cuscuta** is _Cuscuta californica_, and related species. It is a parasitic plant with various common names, including dodder, witches' weed and golden thread. It is found in different parts of the world such as America, Africa and India, and is used by various indigenous peoples as a medicinal plant. One of its many uses is as a contraceptive. For this purpose, the whole plant is eaten. In the _Earth's Children_ books by Jean Auel, this is probably the plant called "golden threads" used by Ayla as a contraceptive, although Jean Auel has Ayla drinking it as an infusion in her morning tea._


	13. Chapter 13

**The Female of the Species**

**Chapter 13**

Lucius was sitting in his study at Malfoy Manor. An almost empty bottle of Glen Foy single malt stood at his elbow. In his hand, he held a crystal tumbler of the same, neat, full to the brim. He took a large swig, not tasting the fiery liquid. He looked up as he heard a knock on the door, which was followed by the entrance of a figure in untidy robes splashed with multicoloured flecks of paint.

"How are you getting on, Arcus?" Lucius asked the man.

"Quite well. I hope to have it finished by tomorrow."

"Has she said anything yet?"

"No, Mr Malfoy. I haven't done the mouth yet. I always do them last."

Lucius laughed, but he was not amused. "A very wise move, I should imagine," he observed.

"Quite. She's already glaring at me. I think she'd love to hex me!" Then he recollected the circumstances of his commission, and laughed nervously. "Er, I'm sorry, that just slipped out."

Lucius sneered at him. "Get out. And make sure you get here early tomorrow. I don't want to see you here after tomorrow evening. I'd sack you for insolence if you weren't so damned good at what you do!"

Arcus disappeared rapidly, gabbling more apologies. Lucius swallowed the contents of his glass, and poured the rest of the bottle into it. He tried to work up enough energy to get out of the armchair and ring the bell for a house elf. How badly did he want another bottle? He had already downed the complete contents of two bottles today, which might account for the difficulty he had in moving, and in seeing straight. He wondered, should he go and inspect the artist's work in progress? Perhaps not: one, he was too drunk, and two, a half finished portrait would probably be very disturbing.

While Lucius was attempting to decide on these two vital matters, his head began to droop, and he was soon snoring gently, the bottle he had just emptied slipping from his fingers to lie abandoned on the floor. When one of the house elves came in to draw the curtains and check that the fire was still burning brightly, he was fast asleep, his head thrown back so that his golden hair tumbled over the back of the chair, and his mouth open so that he certainly did not look his best. The elf looked at his Master for a while, considering, and then fetched a tartan rug, which he tucked around the sleeping form. He then turned down the lamps, and left the room quietly.

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Mid afternoon the following day, Arcus came to Lucius Malfoy's study, and announced that he had finished his task. Lucius grunted at him, "Well, I'll say this for you: you kept to your schedule." Earlier in the day, his head had been thumping badly, and he felt terrible. A glance in the mirror had told him that he looked as bad as he felt, in spite of getting Fingers to shave him and massage his aching shoulders. He had taken a potion Narcissa had brewed for such occasions, and the throbbing had lessened, but he still felt fragile, and could not eat. He had considered the possibility of "the hair of the dog" as a cure, but could not face more whisky either.

Now, he rose and accompanied Arcus to a room on the north side of the house where the artist had been working. Arcus led him to the easel, which was facing the window. Lucius walked around it, and looked at the portrait.

Narcissa Malfoy looked back at him. Arcus was very good, he deserved his reputation. Working from Narcissa's death mask, earlier portraits, and photos of her from _Witch Weekly_, he had created an oil painting of Lucius' late wife wearing the blue crushed velvet gown. The likeness was uncanny: every blonde hair was visible on her perfectly coiffeured head, her pale skin glowed as in life, her cleavage drew his eyes irresistibly to her breasts. One detail only indicated that this image was of the dead Narcissa: two fingers were missing from her right hand.

This breathtaking image formed a stark contrast to the Narcissa he had found in the dungeon after being summoned there by Hibou: Lucius had forced himself to leave his bed for the first time since the attack, and made his way to the dungeons on unsteady legs, resting frequently from necessity, even though the owl hooted at him to hurry. When he had finally reached the room with the sepulchre, he had found his wife, pale as a ghost, lying lifeless in a pool of her own blood, the lethal Knife that had been the cause of her demise still gripped firmly in her bloody hand.

Narcissa's blue, blue eyes now looked him up and down, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh, Lucius, you look terrible," she said.

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Alan arrived at Malfoy Manor, as invited, at eight in the evening. As instructed in case of foul weather, he apparated directly into the large entrance hall. A house elf showed him into Lucius' study, where the older wizard stood and shook his hand firmly, before indicating an armchair by the blazing fire.

"Thank you for coming. Please have a seat. I thought it would be more pleasant in here than just the two of us in one of the reception rooms. Whisky? I have a very fine malt here." Lucius placed a crystal tumbler of Glen Foy at Alan's elbow, along with a small jug of Malfoy spring water. He poured himself a generous measure, and diluted it from a larger jug. He then took his usual leather armchair, on the opposite side of the fireplace.

The two men eyed each other somewhat warily. Alan noticed how much Lucius had changed since he had first entered Cho's Chic in the summer. When Lucius had taken his leave of Cho after ending their affair, he had already looked careworn, and had been far more subdued than the old Malfoy. Now, there was something else different: the arrogance was still there, but an air of quiet desperation seemed to hang around him, and physically he was not the same. He was still handsome, and would still turn heads, both male and female, but there were more silver hairs among the gold, more shadows under the eyes, and when he moved it was not with his former fluid grace, but as if certain actions caused him pain. Throughout their ensuing conversation, Alan was to notice that now and again, Lucius seemed to be holding his breath, as if trying to conquer another pain that attacked him in spasms.

Now Lucius said to Alan, "I expect you're wondering why I asked to see you. You can probably guess that it has to do with Cho. You see, you're the only person who knows why I really ended our relationship."

Alan looked at Lucius, and waited to see what he had to say for himself. He said nothing, merely inclining his head, indicating that Malfoy should proceed.

"I want to tell you how my wife died. What did Cho tell you? How much does she know?"

"She knew that there was something dangerous in your dungeons, that it tried to kill you. She knew that your wife was planning to investigate, and that she was afraid it might kill her."

"I told Narcissa what was in the dungeon. I had to tell her why I had bought so much jade. She had been desperately trying to raise enough money to pay for it while I was unconscious. I did not tell her why the Dark Lord attacked me with the Cruciatus curse, only that he did it."

"He attacked you because you rescued Cho."

"Yes. He was speechless with fury that I dared to cross him. He was waiting for me with Pettigrew's wand. The force of the spell threw me across the room. I managed to stand up, I got out of the room he was in, but the power of the curse hit me properly then, and the pains started in earnest. I think I fell over and hit my head on the ground. My wife found me there.

"Narcissa was a very sensible and practical woman. She took an owl with her when she went to seek out the Dark Lord. When he attacked her, the owl came for me with a note saying where she was. I managed to get out of bed, but I was so weak it took me some time to reach her. By the time I found her, it was too late. She was dead. But her death was not entirely in vain, for she in her turn had managed to slay the Dark Lord. The wizarding world now need never know that he was not already dead as almost all believed."

Alan digested this information. While he silently exulted in the knowledge that Voldemort was dead, it had not escaped his notice that Lucius had not explained how Narcissa Malfoy had managed to prevail against the strength and powerful magic of the Dark Lord. Lucius was holding something back. Alan decided that it was unimportant, his main concern was Cho.

"While I'm exceedingly relieved to learn that He Who Must Not Be Named is really, finally dead, I don't quite see how this relates to Cho."

"Alan, don't be a fool. I know you're a very intelligent young man who sees much and says little. You asked me once if I loved Cho. You asked because you saw that I did. I still do. I walked away from her to keep her safe from – from – damn it, we can say his name now he's dead – from Voldemort! Now he's dead, there's no more danger. But I'm not a fool either. I know I hurt her, not once but twice. You can't believe how difficult it was to send her away that second time, after having her back again for such a short while. I saw the look in her eyes.

"Do you think she would ever forgive me? When I can't possibly explain exactly why I sent her away?"

Alan looked thoughtfully at Lucius Malfoy. "May I speak candidly, without fear of reprisal? The Malfoy temper is legendary"

Lucius laughed bitterly. "Please do. Few people dare speak the truth in my presence, such is my reputation."

"Lucius, you know perfectly well that you can invent a story that will satisfy Cho. That isn't the problem at all. Cho doesn't trust you. Your wife told her that you were seeing other women at the same time as her. Cho naïvely assumed that you only had one mistress at a time. You told Cho you and your wife each went your own way because you were married in name only, and that Mrs Malfoy didn't care what you did. You lied to her about that. Mrs Malfoy loved you. I saw it for myself when she was trying to discover what had happened to you. You're just as observant as I am, you knew your wife loved you, yet you still treated her that way.

"What would Cho get from a relationship with you but more heartbreak? Why should I be your ambassador to her when I don't trust you either? I asked Cho about you. She said to me, 'He'd always be off shagging other women. I would never be enough for him.'

"If you really want Cho, you'll have to change your habits of a lifetime. Would you do that for Cho Chang, when you didn't do it for Narcissa Black, who loved you so much that she gave her life for you? She was strong, perhaps stronger than you. Cho isn't like her. Cho is sweet-natured, kind and far too trusting. She chooses to see the good in everyone, unlike you and Narcissa. Cho is easily hurt. Would she be enough for you? **Only** her, now and forever? How long would it be before you were tired of her, or you wanted some variety? Because she couldn't handle being treated the way you treated your wife. It would destroy her."

A slow cynical smile spread across Lucius' face. "You know," he said softly, "My wife said exactly the same thing to me this morning."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Three weeks after Narcissa Malfoy's funeral, Lucinda Malfoy suddenly appeared in the drawing room at Malfoy Manor via the floo network. The room was chilly and dark, as the day was dull and no fire had been laid. A slight musty smell of disuse hung in the air. Lucinda shook herself a little to straighten her robes, and shivered slightly. She stepped out of the room, and made her way to Lucius' study, where she tapped on the door, and then strode confidently into the room. Here it was more comfortable, with bright lamps and a cheerful fire warming the atmosphere.

Lucius looked up from his usual chair to be greeted by the sight of his beautiful cousin, her flaming red hair catching the lamplight, standing with her hands on her hips looking at him disapprovingly, and sniffing the alcohol laden air.

"Lucius, you look awful. You've been ignoring all my owls, so I decided to come and see for myself why. I see you've decided to drown your sorrows in Glen Foy. I'm surprised at you, I didn't know you cared so much about Narcissa. I thought you'd be glad to be rid of the old witch."

When Lucinda had started speaking, Lucius had looked vaguely amused, but at her last statement, a look of fury came over his face, and with eyes of flint, he said to her coldly, "If you dare to say anything like that ever again, you'll wish you'd never been born. What do you want?"

Lucinda immediately tried to sound more conciliatory, and apologised contritely, trying to hide her shock at this reaction to her jest. Then she stepped over to Lucius, stood behind his chair, and massaged his shoulders. In a wheedling tone, she said, "You haven't been to see me for so long Lucius. I thought you'd be lonely, all alone in this great house with only Draco and the house elves for company. So I came to see you. I've missed you, my darling. Haven't you missed me?"

"Lucinda, my dear, much as it pains me to say it, I haven't missed you at all. In fact I've barely given you a thought."

His cousin was not so easily deflated. She continued to massage Lucius' shoulders, and began to kiss his ear, her auburn tresses falling over Lucius' golden head. Lucius permitted this for a while, then turned his head towards her, and laid two fingers over her mouth. "Stop it, Lucinda," he said, more gently, "Now is not the time."

"When will be the time, Lucius? I'm sorry if it's too soon, but I really do miss you. There's no other man like you. You spoil a girl for anyone else."

Lucius took her hand. "Sit down, Lucinda." She sat at his feet on a footstool, and gazed up at him. She put a hand on his knee, and ran it lingeringly along his leg, stopping short when she reached the place where it joined his pelvis. She then began again, fractionally nearer his inside leg. Lucius looked as if he was about to remove her hand, but she could see that his body was responding. After a few moments' hesitation, instead of brushing it away, he lay back in the armchair, and closed his eyes, allowing his legs to fall further apart.

Lucinda moved the footstool forward, and allowed her hands to wander up and down Lucius' inner thigh. Eventually, she put one hand experimentally on his crotch, half expecting him to respond in anger. Lucius opened his eyes, and regarded her with an expression that was impossible to read. He could not deny his body's reaction: Lucinda could feel his warm, hard erection thrusting itself into her hand through the doeskin. She put her head on one side and smiled at him, while her hands, with the swiftness of practice, undid the buttons of his breeches. She slid one hand inside, and felt the contrast of the hard, smooth, silky skin and the soft hairs underneath. Lucinda pulled the fall-front of his breeches clear, then leant forwards, and took Lucius in her mouth. Looking up at him through her lashes, she saw him close his eyes again, and felt him pushing himself into her. She heard him gasp with pleasure as she flicked her tongue over the sensitive glans, tasting the slightly salt flavour of his essence. Lucinda would have smiled to herself if her mouth were not full. Lucius had been such a regular part of her life, she could not bear the idea that he no longer needed her. But she had known Lucius intimately for many years in the way that only a handful of women did, and counted on the fact that he was a very highly sexed male who had never lacked female company. She could not imagine him living the life of one of those strange Muggles called monks.

Lucinda worked hard to please Lucius, using all her skill and experience, taking as much of him as she could into her mouth. It was not long before her diligence was rewarded, and she gripped his buttocks tightly as she swallowed his fountaining seed, encouraging him to sustain his peak as long as possible. When she knew he was entirely spent, she lay with her head on Lucius' midriff, gently fingering his softening member. She felt his hand stroking her hair as he relaxed completely.

Lucius looked down on the copper coloured head in his lap, his feeling of drowsy pleasure battling with an unfamiliar feeling of unease. Damn Lucinda, she knew him far too well after all these years. Her sweet mouth knew its business, and she had guessed rightly that he had not had a woman recently, and he would respond eagerly in spite of himself to her advances. She turned her head up to him and smiled. The smile he gave her in response was more like a sneer. "You're such a good little tart, my dear," he said mockingly. "How much do I owe you for such a professional job?"

"You can eat me next time, Lucius darling. You owe me one," replied his cousin, leering at him. "You're a pretty good gigolo yourself. I like a man who knows what his tongue's for. Now, shall we make a definite date for your payment?"

"No, I don't think we will. I'd like you to leave now." Lucinda looked surprised at his tone. "But I just got here."

"I don't recall inviting you. You did what you came for. Now I want you to go."

Lucinda raised an eyebrow at him, but Lucius' expression made it clear he was not joking. In this mood he was not to be trifled with. She stood up, and leaned over him, looking into his eyes. He stared her down inscrutably.

"Fine. I'm leaving."

Lucinda took a handful of floo powder from the copper hod by the fireplace, threw it into the flames, and saying "Old Sarum Lodge" she disappeared into the blaze.

Lucius sat on in his armchair, his clothing still disarranged. He took a large swig of whisky, and laid his head back again, considering what had just taken place; considering what it said about him; considering his options.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

**Note**:

_When **Lucinda** was first mentioned in _Cho's Chic_, one reviewer expressed surprise at her being Lucius' cousin. I would like to make it clear that, whatever the law is where you are, in the UK sexual relations between first cousins is not incest, and is perfectly legal. As an example, we need look no further than Queen Victoria, who married her first cousin Albert. _


	14. Chapter 14

**The Female of the Species**

**Chapter 14**

Lucius was once more in his accustomed chair in his study, a half empty bottle of Glen Foy on the table beside him, when Lucinda paid him another visit one evening. She had not seen Lucius for almost a month, having forced herself to stay away. She had been wary of annoying him, his mood on her last trip to Malfoy Manor had been so odd. She hoped that by now he would be pleased to see her, as they had never been apart for so long since their regular liaisons had started. This time, she stepped from the fireplace in the study itself.

Lucius looked up at her. If he was surprised at her sudden appearance from amongst the flames, he did not show it. "Ah, Lucinda," he said neutrally. He did not get up from his chair. In the old days, he would always greet her with a lingering kiss: she missed those kisses, they could make her so ready for him in such a short time. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he enquired.

"You still look terrible, Lucius. You haven't shaved for days and your hair needs a wash. Do you live in that chair?" She sniffed the air, and looked round the room. "You must have drunk the equivalent of Loch Foy since Narcissa died. Lucius, you know the bottle isn't the answer!"

"And what remedy do you recommend? The lovely Lucinda naked on the hearth rug, perhaps?"

"If you like." She smiled coquettishly, but it elicited no response.

"What do you want, Lucinda? Or have you come for a repeat performance of last time?"

"If you like," she repeated.

"No, Lucinda. And this time I mean it."

Lucinda sighed. "If you insist, although you are refusing the most supple and deep throated of the Malfoy women." Then, more seriously, she said, "Listen Lucius, I didn't only come here for that. I have some news for you, or rather I wanted to check whether it is news to you. May I sit down?"

"Over there, if you please." He indicated the chair on the other side of the fireplace. "Would you like a drink?" He rose with what seemed much more of an effort than the movement would demand, and poured Lucinda a generous measure of Glen Foy. He was about to get her a jug of spring water, when she shook her head. "Neat will be fine for me this evening. If I can't have you, I might just get drunk instead." Lucius raised his eyebrows at her, but said nothing, retaking his seat.

"Well?"

"Have you seen Cho Chang recently?"

Lucius immediately looked suspicious. "Why are you asking me about her?"

"Lucius, I know you had an affair with her."

"If I did, it's none of your business. You know perfectly well I never discuss one woman with another. Would you have liked me to tell Miss Chang all about what you and I do?"

" 'Did', I think is the right tense, Lucius. Unless of course you meant what you said about the hearth rug? I asked about Cho Chang because I saw her yesterday morning. I went to Cho's Chic to order a dress. I'd heard so many good things about her work, and I also wanted to have a closer look at her because I knew about you and her. Anyway, there's something about her you should know. She's pregnant."

Lucius had only been half listening, but now Lucinda had his full attention. "**Pregnant**?" he almost shouted, "How pregnant?"

"Well, Lucius my darling, one is either pregnant or one isn't." Lucius glared at Lucinda, and she capitulated. "I'd guess about nine weeks."

"Nine weeks? Are you sure about this? At that stage I suppose she doesn't show yet. How do you know?"

"Because I have the gift, Lucius. Some witches just have the ability to sense when a woman is pregnant, and I'm one of them. You know I'm always right, I've proved it often enough. Anyway, she looked very green around the gills. It was obvious she's got morning sickness."

Lucius looked stunned. His cousin could see him doing calculations in his head.

"I suppose from your reaction that it's yours?" she said, with just a hint of venom. "Someone wasn't as careful as they should have been." Lucius' glare intensified.

"Lucinda, my dear, you've passed on your delicious piece of gossip. Thank you for informing me, I'm duly grateful. But I'll thank you for not speculating about my other relationships. If you have nothing more to say to me other than to discuss Miss Chang, it would be better if you were to leave."

Lucinda pouted prettily. "Oh, Lucius, you are a grumpy old wizard. Don't you have anything nice to say to me at all? After I came specially to see you?"

Lucius shook his head. "No, Lucinda. I think your days may be numbered." At these words, a slight shiver went down her spine. There was something very different about Lucius these days, and this statement sounded portentous.

Lucinda drained her glass, gasping slightly as the fiery whisky hit her throat, and stood up. She took a step towards Lucius, and stood over him. Then, making up her mind, she turned slightly and sat on his lap, flung her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the mouth. She felt Lucius hesitate a little before responding to her embrace. The kiss lasted for some time, and then Lucius pulled away from his cousin. He rested his head on the back of the armchair, and held Lucinda's chin in one hand. He brushed her mouth with his thumb as he held her head in a grip so firm that she was forced to look at him.

"Ah, Lucinda! What am I going to do with you?"

"Have me naked on the hearth rug?" She began to undo the buttons on the bodice of her gown, but Lucius put his other hand over hers to stop her. "No, don't." His voice was quiet, but firm, and she knew that he meant it.

"Can I ask you something, Lucius?" Lucinda said, trying to sound as neutral as possible. He inclined his head indicating that she should proceed. "Something seems to have changed since Narcissa died. I don't understand what. You used to see me two or three times a week, and never less than once a fortnight. Did you really love Narcissa so much after all? Are you mourning her so much that you don't need a woman any more? How long is it going to last?"

Lucius closed his eyes and seemed to be thinking. "If I answer you, I trust it will go no further?" He opened them again, and looked at her very seriously. Lucinda stroked his face. "Lucius, you know I never betray a confidence. What's wrong?"

"Narcissa was a wonderful woman. I never appreciated just how wonderful till she died. Did you know she always loved me?"

Lucinda looked surprised. "I thought you had an open marriage by mutual agreement. She had loads of men."

"Yes, we did. But now I realise it was my choice not hers. She let me do what I wanted because she knew it was the only way to keep me. I ended up taking her for granted. I ignored all the signs. When I think about her now, of course I knew she loved me. I just chose to pretend to myself that she didn't, so that I didn't have to feel guilty for not loving her back."

"But Lucius, she's dead now. You can't change the past by feeling guilty. It should be easier for you to do exactly what you want now, you don't have to pretend anything. You didn't love her anymore."

"No, I didn't."

"So, after a decent interval, when the guilt has worn off, we'll be back to normal, won't we?" Lucinda tried not to sound desperate, remembering his earlier words.

"Lucinda, do you think I could ever love just one woman enough to be faithful to her?"

She knew he did not mean her. A chill stole over her heart. Then she realised she knew. "It's Cho Chang isn't it?"

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Lucius Malfoy sits gazing into the fire, trying to organise his thoughts; trying to be honest with himself, for he has finally realised his own capacity for self-deception. He is a changed man, this he knows. But he is as yet unsure whether the change is permanent. He realises that he is like a ship adrift, for the anchor of his belief, the Dark Lord, is now no more. He cannot speak of this to any living soul, for none save one knows the precise detail of recent events: that Voldemort lived until a few short weeks ago and was slain by his wife; and that person is one to whom he will not turn, for to do so would both demean him and bring disturbing visions of the Dark Lord's attempt to violate Cho Chang.

Lucius finally admits to himself that he loves Cho, but he is wary of this feeling, for he has realised that the Dark Lord changed him when he practised legilimency on him. Lucius, who had never really loved anyone, although he desired and made love to many, fell in love with Cho Chang because he was forced to think about her constantly. Lucius does not know if this love is unique enough to last. He knows that Cho is a fragile flower beside his late wife's strong personality. He cares enough about her to want the very best for her, even if this means a parting of the ways. He knows that Cho could not share him, the first infidelity would break her heart.

He thinks of Lucinda, who said to him, "Marry me, Lucius. I've been sharing you for years, and I don't mind. It would be just the same. You're not a one-woman man." But Lucius knows that marriage brings expectations of possession, and this his beautiful cousin fails to recognise. She too may eventually find herself resenting Lucius' harem in spite of herself.

Does Lucius still need the titillation of a regular supply of new females to explore? For he has had far more than his fair share to date. Perhaps no, but does he have the strength to refuse the advances of those who have always deliberately put themselves in his way? For even if he chooses not to actively seek out new experiences, he knows that he is weak: he has never yet turned down a desirable woman who offered herself to him.

Lucius recognises his advancing years. He has seen the silver hairs among the gold, he has seen the lines around his eyes, he feels pain each time he moves. But he knows that this last is in part due to the Crucio curse, and he does not know how he will be when the final effects leave him. He is not yet 50, and wizards live beyond the span of mere Muggles. There is still life in this wizard, and his staff remains eager and ready for attention every morning.

He can see a future in which he is a very lonely old wizard, living from one sexual encounter to the next. Would it be such a sacrifice, to give up the variety? He feels nothing for most of the women, and no more than a fondness for the rest. He is sure Cho Chang would be willing to accommodate his sexual fantasies, he can teach her all the techniques he has learnt over the years. She would be a willing pupil: young, firm, tight and eager.

What of the baby? Is it more or less honourable to desire Cho because she is bearing his child? Is he merely guilty of a feeling of possessiveness over his unborn offspring? Lucius wants to be a father to this child, recognising the poor relationship he has with his only legitimate son. He feels the new life would bring him comfort, and he believes he could be a good father this time around. This last thing he wants more than anything else: even should he and Cho neither marry, nor cohabit in the modern style, (for he has his legitimate heir) he still wishes to be an active parent to her baby.

Lucius finally thinks that he should not make the decision at all: he should lay out all before Cho Chang, and let her decide. He should tell her that he cannot promise that the lion can give up all other lionesses forever, but that for her sake he will try. For even wizards cannot see into the future, and nothing in life is guaranteed.

But perhaps sometimes a great gamble is worth the risk? Especially if the prize is worth having.


	15. Epilogue

**The Female of the Species**

**Epilogue**

The small girl ran along the wide landing in Malfoy Manor, not watching where she was going. Suddenly, she ran headlong into a pair of legs, stopping her dead in her tracks. She looked up, such a long way for such a little person, and when she saw the familiar face, she gave a huge smile, and she giggled.

"What are you doing?" asked Draco Malfoy, smiling back at his half sister. She shrugged her shoulders in response, and threw her arms around his legs so that he had difficulty standing. Draco shook his head in amusement.

When Cho had first given birth to her daughter, Draco had been resentful and angry. He had refused to acknowledge the child in any way. He felt the loss of his mother keenly, and unconsciously blamed Cho for her death. He had no logical reason for this feeling, except the suspicious way his mother had died suddenly at Glen Moy Castle, and the fact that Draco knew Lucius had been there with Cho. Draco felt outraged that his father should have decided to make such a fool of himself by falling for this girl: she had humiliated Draco at Hogwarts by being a better seeker than him, and had even been out with that unspeakable Harry Potter. Draco had envied and desired to emulate his father's reputation with the witches, but Lucius' previous rule had been never to fall in love with any of his conquests: until Cho.

But once the small girl had begun to talk, the change began. She did not recognise Draco's attempted rebuffs. She just laughed, and carried on chattering, sometimes understandable broken sentences, and more often, childish nonsense. If he was sitting in a chair, she crawled into his lap, and played with the buttons on his clothes or stroked his golden hair, that was so like her Daddy's. Draco tried setting her back on the carpet, but she was delighted by this game, and immediately climbed back up, like a playful puppy. Staring into his pale eyes with her dark brown ones, she rubbed her fingers over his strangely rough chin, then over her own smooth one, learning in her own way one of the differences between male and female.

Draco could not help but smile at her comical ways, and one day Lucius found them together in the morning room: Draco was stretched out on his back asleep on the sofa, snoring gently, his head on a cushion; and prone on top of him lay Cho's child, her dark hair spread over his chest, also sound asleep. Lucius smiled to himself, marvelling at the ability of a trusting little girl to charm embittered, hardened men.

Now, in spite of retaining his antipathy to Cho herself, whenever he and the child met, Draco was her slave and protector, and her comforter when she hurt herself. With her alone he was kind and gentle, for she loved him unreservedly, and he had no need to maintain the hard edge he presented to the rest of the wizarding world.

Today, however, Draco had no time for his sister, he had been just about to leave for an appointment. "I have to go out," he told her, untangling her arms from his legs, "I'm already late."

"Back soon?" she asked him, pouting. "I don't know," he replied. He had learnt to be honest with her. She accepted "don't know"s at face value, because there was so much she did not know herself, but if he told her a time, she expected him to be there. She could not tell the time herself yet, but would ask frequently, "Two o'clock, Daddy?" and if he said it was, she would wait expectantly for the sound of Draco's voice, and scream in delight when he finally appeared.

This time, however, she watched her adored brother disapparate, then looked around herself again, and carried on happily with her trip along the landing. Finally, she stopped, and looked up at a door in front of her. It stood ajar. This was a great temptation, for usually the doors were closed. She gave it an experimental push, and it swung inwards with a creak. The girl stepped through and found herself in a large sunlit bedroom. She knew she had never been in this room before, and looked around with great interest. It was comfortably furnished in unmistakably feminine pastel colours, and dominated by an enormous four-poster bed with turquoise blue hangings.

But it was not this that attracted her eyes. She looked at the wall opposite the foot of the bed, and was enchanted by what she saw hanging there: a portrait of a lady. The lady was asleep at the moment, leaning against the wall of the room in the painting. When she looked at the portrait, the child saw a beautiful golden-haired woman who looked like an older female version of her brother Draco. She stepped closer for a better look, mesmerised. As she stared wide-eyed, the lady awoke, stretched, and then glanced downwards and noticed her tiny observer, who smiled with pleasure when a pair of cornflower blue eyes looked into hers.

"Hello," said the child. "Who are you?"

"I'm Narcissa," replied the lady. "And what's your name?"

"Bryony," answered the girl, with great care. She had obviously been taught to say her name clearly when adults asked this universal question.

"That's a pretty name," said Narcissa, and Bryony smiled at the compliment. Until then, Narcissa had only seen a miniature version of Cho Chang, distinguishable from her mainly by the lack of an epicanthic fold over her eyes. But the angle of Bryony's head, and the expression in those large brown orbs as she acknowledged Narcissa's praise, reminded her forcefully of Lucius.

Bryony stared at Narcissa with interest. "N'cissa?" she said experimentally. The lovely lady nodded back. Then suddenly, the child saw Narcissa's hand. She put her own hands in front of her eyes as if to check all was there, and a look of sorrow came over her face. "Hand hurt?" she asked sadly.

"No, Bryony. Not now. It happened a long time ago. The hurt's all gone now."

Bryony nodded, but she was still curious. "Why N'cissa got sore hand?" she asked.

"An accident." The little girl frowned. "A knife." Now she understood. Mummy told her often she was too small to use sharp knives, and had once shocked Bryony by shouting at her when she caught her handling a kitchen knife. So even grown-ups sometimes cut themselves too.

Then Bryony saw a strange thing happening to the painting. The lady was wearing a blue dress that shimmered and caught the light. But now she could see that the dress had a long pocket in one side of the full skirt. Bryony knew about these pockets, witches had them for their wands when they wore traditional clothes. With the innocence of a child, Bryony did not wonder why the layers of paint had suddenly become transparent to her eyes. She looked at Narcissa's wand, and saw that it was not the only object in the pocket. Fastened to the wand was something else: something that seemed to call out to her to hold it. Bryony put out her small hand, and lifted the wand out of the portrait. With the extra item, it was heavier than she had expected, and she almost dropped it. She stared, fascinated by the other object, which was wrapped in something thick like a pair of Draco's boots. There were shiny buckles holding it in place. Bryony pulled at one of the buckles. She could not work out how to undo it. She tried desperately to remember what Daddy had taught her when she had tried to undo the buckles on a pair of his boots.

She was so engrossed in her task that she did not hear the voice calling her name, or the footsteps entering the room. She looked up when she heard a shout. Her Daddy was standing there, a look of thunder on his face.

"Drop it, Bryony! Now! Do you hear me?" Bryony had never heard Daddy speak to her like that. She could tell he was very angry indeed. Shocked and frightened, she dropped the wand as if it were burning her hand, took a step backwards, and burst noisily into tears.

In a moment Lucius swept his precious daughter into his arms, and hugged her to him so tightly that she could not move. Her anguished screams did not subside, she could feel his agitation, and it increased her fear. He turned furiously to the portrait to confront its occupant. "What are you up to, Narcissa? Are you trying to kill my daughter as well as yourself?"

Narcissa was cool as a cucumber, and replied calmly, "No, Lucius. It wasn't me. It was the Knife. It called to her of its own accord. It knew I had not chosen a new Secret Keeper because I could not identify anyone suitable before I died. So it sought one for itself. It recognised a hidden power in her. She saw the Knife through the layers of paint. She took it freely without coercion. It would not have hurt her. It is not in the interest of the Knife that its new Secret Keeper should die immediately she made herself known to it. The Subtle Knife knew she lacked the skill to expose the blades.

"Put the Knife back in its place in the pocket, Lucius. It will stay safe until she returns for it when she is old enough to use it safely. Or perhaps she will never use it, for I was the first to do so for many generations.

"Bryony, don't cry." This in a soft voice that somehow forced the listener to pay attention. "Your father loves you. He only shouted because he was afraid for you. Even grown-ups are afraid sometimes."

At these words, Bryony's sobs subsided, and she looked from the beautiful lady to her father. Both were smiling at her. She saw that Daddy had tears in his eyes, and she was confused, for this she had never seen before. One rolled down Lucius' cheek, and Bryony wiped it away with a tiny finger. She did not understand why this made her father's tears flow even more freely.

Lucius carried his daughter from Narcissa's room, heading downstairs to greet her mother, newly arrived from Cho's Chic after a long day at work.

**The End **

* * *

I would like to offer my thanks to all my loyal readers, especially those who have taken the time to leave such positive reviews here, elsewhere, and in private to me.

"But what happened to Cho and Lucius?" you ask.

Dear reader, you decide.


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